PRESCOTT'S RETURN
It was Saturday evening, clear and cold, though the frost was not
intense. A number of the farmers and their wives had driven in to
Sebastian to meet their friends and make their weekly purchases. A row of
light rigs stood outside the livery-stable, voices and laughter rose from
the sidewalks; the town looked cheerful and almost picturesque with its
roofs and tall elevator towers cutting against the soft night sky.
A full moon hung above them, but its silvery radiance was paled by other
lights. Warm gleams shone out from the store windows upon the
hard-trodden snow; a train of lighted cars stood at the station, and the
intense white glare of the head-lamp mingled with the beam flung far
across the prairie by a freight locomotive on a side-track. Groups of
people strolled up and down the low platform, waiting to see the train go
out, and their voices rang merrily on the frosty air. From one of the
great shadowy elevators there came a whirr of wheels.
When the train rolled away into the wilderness, Muriel Hurst entered the
hotel and went upstairs to the parlor where Colston and her sister were
sitting. The room was furnished in defective taste, but it was warm and
brightly lighted, and the girl had got accustomed to the smell of warm
iron diffused by the stove and the odor of burning kerosene. Colston
occupied an easy-chair, and when Muriel took off her furs he looked up
with a smile, noticing the fine color the nipping air had brought into
her face. She looked braced and vigorous, but it struck him that she wore
a thoughtful expression.
"Did you buy all you wanted?" he asked.
"I got what I came for." Muriel sat down and handed her sister a parcel.
"I think that ought to match. Has Harry been lounging there since supper?
Isn't he the picture of comfortable laziness?"
Colston laughed. He was still very neatly dressed, but he looked harder
than he had when he first reached the prairie and his face was brown.
"I'm content, and that's a great thing," he rejoined. "Indeed, I'll
confess that I could enjoy our stay here, except for the damping effect
of our friends' trouble. It's astonishing how little one misses the
comforts we insist on in England, and I'm coming to take an interest in
the visits we pay among the ranches and our weekly trip to Sebastian.
Then nobody could maintain that your sister looks any the worse for her
experience. I'm beginning to think she might pass for a wheat-grower's
wife."
"I heard Mrs. Johnson ask when you were going to take a farm," Muriel
retorted. "It would be difficult to imagine you tramping down a furrow
behind a plow or driving one of those smelly gasoline tractors; but
you'll be able to pose before your constituents as an authority on
colonial questions when you go home."
"I'm afraid they'll throw me over unless they see me soon; but there's
nothing else to take me back, and I'd feel we were deserting our friends
in their distress."
"We can't leave them yet," Mrs. Colston broke in. "The suspense is
preying upon Jernyngham. He's getting dangerously moody; I know Gertrude
feels anxious about him."
A curious expression crept into Muriel's eyes.
"Believing what he does, it's natural that he should clamor for justice,
but he's becoming possessed by a feverish cruelty. It's mastering him,
destroying his judgment."
"You're alluding to his suspicions of Prescott?"
Muriel's eyes sparkled as she took up the challenge.
"You know as well as I do that they're altogether wrong! It's impossible
that he should be guilty!"
"One would like to think so," her sister responded with dry reserve. "But
it's a pity he ran away."
Muriel could not deny this. She had retained her faith in Prescott, but
his silence about the motive for an absence that must tell against him
troubled her. It was strange that he had given her no hint, and she felt
hurt.
"He may have gone because he could not bear to be distrusted," she said.
"You are both sorry for Jernyngham, but don't you think the man he
unjustly suspects deserves some pity?"
"Well," said Colston, "I've tried to keep an open mind. Prejudice, of
course, should not be pandered to; but one is as likely to be led astray
by too strong a partiality for the suspected person." He paused before he
added: "However, I envy you your confidence; I liked the man."
"The worst of it is that the matter may go dragging on until it wears
Gertrude and her father out," Mrs. Colston remarked. "It would be a
relief in some ways to learn the truth, however bad it is."
"Mr. Prescott has no reason to dread the truth's coming out," said Muriel
staunchly.
Then a maid came in to announce that their team was ready, and, putting
on her furs, Muriel went down in advance of the others to see that her
purchases had been placed together. After she had gone, Mrs. Colston
looked at her husband.
"I think it would be advisable to mention Prescott as seldom as
possible."
"So do I," Colston agreed. "I wonder whether you have noticed anything
unusual in the relations between Muriel and Gertrude of late? They used
to be good friends in England."
"I have remarked some signs of strain. But it is not a matter you could
be expected to take an interest in."
"Of course," Colston rejoined deprecatingly, and went down with his wife.
Leslie's team and a smart sleigh, which Jernyngham had had sent out from
Toronto, stood at the door, and after he had helped his wife and Muriel
in, Colston took the reins. When they had jolted across the track, the
snow was beaten smooth along the trail; the team was fresh after resting,
and it was a brilliant night. They set off at an exhilarating speed, and
though their faces tingled they kept warm beneath their furs and
driving-robes. Far in front of them spread the prairie, gleaming white
beneath the moon; no cloud stained the vault of soft deep blue, and the
drumming of the hoofs rang out in merry rhythm. The crisp cold, which was
less marked than usual, stirred the blood.
They passed a buggy, drawn by a good horse, and later a light wagon, for
the snow does not, as a rule, lie deep on the western prairie and the
farmers largely continue the use of wheels. After that for some time they
were alone on the waste, until as they approached a tract of broken
country a wagon appeared on the crest of a rise, with the double span of
horses in front of it cutting sharply black against the snow. It came on
slowly, heavily loaded with bags of grain, and then the dark shape of a
man who walked beside the team grew visible. As they came closer, Colston
turned his horses out of the trail to let the wagon pass, and then
started as the moonlight fell on the teamster's face. It was Prescott.
For a moment he hesitated, and then pulled up, acknowledging the man's
greeting with a lifted hand. Mrs. Colston, however, said nothing, and
Prescott stood quietly by his horses' heads, until Muriel called him
forward and gave him her hand.
"When did you get back?" she asked.
"Late last night. We broke the wheat bin this morning, and I'm taking the
first load in."
"But where were you?"
"In Alberta and British Columbia most of the time."
He volunteered no further information and there was an awkward pause, for
Prescott had noticed that Colston had been undecided whether to drive on
or not. Mrs. Colston sat farthest from him, so that he could not see her,
but she had not addressed him yet. It was clear that his appearance had
affected them unpleasantly.
"When we next meet, you must tell us about your trip," said Muriel.
"We should be interested to hear about it," Colston added lamely, and
Prescott forced a smile. Muriel was the only one who had treated him on
the old friendly footing; and he could hardly visit the Leslie homestead,
even if he were invited, while Jernyngham was there.
"I may see you some time, and I mustn't keep you now," he responded.
He started his team, and Colston turned to his companions.
"I'll confess that I've had a great surprise."
"Of course, you imagined that Mr. Prescott had gone for good!" said
Muriel with scorn.
"I'm afraid I had some idea of that nature. He would hardly have come
back if he were guilty."
"Oh," said Muriel mockingly, "you really can't tell what an unscrupulous,
bold man might do."
"Spare me," Colston begged with a laugh. "After all, it looks as if you
have been right." He turned to his wife. "What do you think?"
"Mr. Prescott's guilt or innocence is a question I can't decide; but in
making us believe he was Cyril Jernyngham he did a very wrong and foolish
thing. That Cyril may have urged him to do so is no excuse."
"Leaving Mr. Prescott out, I think Cyril's idea was a very generous one,"
Muriel declared.
"How can you believe that?"
"He must have wished to save his father and sister pain, and he knew the
trick would cost him a good deal. For one thing, it would prevent his
going home to be reinstated, because of course if he had done so, we
would have seen he was not the man we had met in Canada. He meant to stay
here, refusing to benefit by the change in his affairs, out of
consideration for his relatives."
"And you approve his passing off this western farmer for a Jernyngham?"
Mrs. Colston asked.
"Oh, that!" Muriel's laugh was scornful. "You were satisfied with the man
until you knew his name was Prescott. How was it that you didn't miss the
inherent superiority of the Jernynghams? Besides, I can't think Cyril
suffered by getting his friend to represent him. Though people won't talk
very freely, I've picked up some information since I've been here, enough
to show what kind of man Cyril was. He hadn't much to boast of, and one
must do him the justice to admit that he seems to have recognized it. You
probably know, though you hid it from me, that on the evening he should
have met us he was lying in the hotel after getting badly hurt in a
drunken brawl among some riotous Orangemen."
"I can't have any reflections cast upon Orangemen," Colston objected.
"There are a large number in my constituency; most worthy people, for
whom I've a strong respect."
"You have a respect for their votes, you mean," Muriel rejoined. "You
know you're really ritualistic High Church. If your constituents knew as
much about St. Cuthbert's as I do, they would turn you out."
"I have never hid my convictions," Colston declared. "Anyway, I have
ascertained that the greater proportion of the Orangemen were sober."
"Then," retorted Muriel, "I'm sorry that Cyril was not. But there are
more important points to consider."
"That is very true," said Mrs. Colston. "Will you tell Jernyngham that we
have seen Prescott, Harry?"
Colston hesitated.
"No; I don't think so. I'm afraid of the effect it may have on him; and
he won't be up when we get in. All the same, he's bound to hear the news
from somebody else very soon."
Neither of the others answered, and they drove on in silence until the
lights of the Leslie homestead blinked across the snow. The cheerfulness
which had marked the party when they set out had gone; they felt a sense
of constraint, and Muriel wondered uneasily whether she had spoken with
too much freedom.
The next morning they were sitting with Jernyngham and Gertrude when a
neighboring rancher came in.
"I thought Leslie might be here," he explained. "Don't mean to intrude."
Colston knew the man and he asked him to sit down. Jernyngham glanced up
from the Winnipeg paper he was reading. His face was worn and had set
into a fixed, harsh expression, but his manner conveyed a hint of
eagerness; of late it had suggested that he was continually expecting
something.
"I drove over to give Leslie a message," the newcomer continued. "I guess
you have heard that Prescott's back."
Jernyngham started and dropped the paper.
"Prescott back? You must be mistaken!"
"No, sir! Spoke to him on the trail last night. He was hauling in a load
to the settlement, and I was driving home half an hour after Mr.
Colston."
"There's only one trail," said Jernyngham, looking hard at Colston. "You
must have met the fellow. Why didn't you tell me?"
Colston showed confusion.
"To tell the truth, I was afraid the news might distress and excite you.
You couldn't do anything until Monday, and I thought it better to let you
spend to-day in peace."
"In peace!" Jernyngham laughed in a jarring manner. "Tormented as I am by
suspense that grows beyond endurance!" His eyes glittered and the lines
on his face deepened. "And I'm to be kept in ignorance while the villain
who robbed and killed my son goes about his work undisturbed!"
There was an awkward silence for a few moments. Mrs. Colston looked
distressed, and Gertrude regarded Muriel with a long searching glance.
The girl felt that she was being suspected of abetting her brother-in-law
for some ulterior purpose. She was of sanguine temperament and wayward
temper, and her blood ran warm; but she held in check the anger that she
burned to give expression to. Then their visitor, whom they had
forgotten, broke in:
"Now, sir, you're getting ahead too fast. There's nothing proved against
Prescott, and I and others know he never did the thing!" He paused and
Muriel, regardless of her companions, flung him a grateful glance as he
went on: "Even Curtis can't bring it home to him!"
"Curtis," said Jernyngham contemptuously, "is a cautious fool! I'll
communicate with his chiefs at Regina." He got up with a decided air.
"I'll start for Sebastian at once. Where's Leslie? I must see him about a
team."
"You stay where you are," said the farmer, with rude sympathy. "I heard
that one of the police bosses will be at the settlement to-morrow and you
can see him then; Curtis took a room for him at the hotel. I'm telling
you because the sooner all this muss is cleared up the better, and it
won't hurt Prescott."
He went out and Jernyngham, without speaking to the others, picked up his
paper. Muriel took a book from a shelf, but although she determinedly
tried to fix her attention on it, she could make no sense of what she
read. It was a dreary morning; Colston was soon driven out, and the
others were oppressed by a feeling of constraint and tension. They were
glad when Jernyngham and Gertrude started for Sebastian in the afternoon.
After they had gone, Colston looked at his wife and sister-in-law
dolefully.
"This kind of thing will tell upon your nerves; I'm beginning to feel
it," he said. "We must have a long drive to-morrow to get rid of the
depression. Those people on the ranch by the bluff pressed us to come
back again."
"There are many excuses for our friends; you couldn't expect them to be
cheerful," Mrs. Colston replied.
"That's very true; one must try to remember it. It seems our duty to
remain and comfort them as much as possible; but I can't say that they're
always very grateful. Indeed, I have felt hurt by Gertrude's reserve,
though, considering how trying all this must be for her, one can't take
exception to it."
"Gertrude knows her brother is alive!" said Muriel coldly.
Her sister cast a keen glance at her, while Colston, made a sign of
expostulation.
"I scarcely think you have any right to say that; but I'll confess that
I'm wavering in my opinions--Prescott's return has had its effect on me.
In fact, the mystery's getting deeper and more fascinating; I feel
impelled to wait and see it unraveled."
"That is hardly the way to regard it," his wife rebuked him. "I would
rather remember that the Jernynghams have a strong claim on our
sympathy."
"It's the main consideration, of course. But we'll decide on the drive
to-morrow. It has been a depressing day."