TRANQUILLITY
The afternoon was very hot when Nasmyth plodded down a steep hillside
through the thick red dust of the waggon trail. A fire had swept the
undergrowth away, and there was no shade among the trees which,
stripped of their branches, towered about him, great charred and
blackened columns. Close ahead the primeval Bush rose in an unbroken
sombre mass, and Nasmyth, who quickened his pace a trifle, sat down
with a gasp of satisfaction when he reached the first of the shadow.
It was fresh and cool there. The Bush was scented with the odours of
pine and cedar, and filled with the soft murmur of falling water,
while he knew that just beyond it Bonavista stood above the sparkling
sea.
He was on his way from the railroad depot. It was just a fortnight
since he had left the _Tillicum_ at the little mining town, on the day
after the one he and Violet Hamilton had spent on the beach, and he
had not seen her before he went. Now he fancied that a welcome awaited
him, and he felt sincerely pleased to be back again. As he sat beneath
a great cedar filling his pipe, it seemed to him only appropriate that
he should approach Bonavista through that belt of cool, sweet-scented
Bush. It made it easier to feel that he had left behind him all that
associated him with the strife and bustle of the hot and noisy cities.
At Bonavista were leisure, comfort, and tranquillity, which were,
after all, things that made a strong appeal to one side of his nature,
and he had made no progress in the city. There was also no doubt that
both Mr. and Mrs. Acton were glad to entertain him for a time. He sat
still a few minutes, and then went on slowly beneath the towering
redwoods and cedars until he came out of the forest, and saw the
sunlight stream down on the shingled roof of Bonavista close ahead.
The house appeared to be empty, and he had shed his dusty city clothes
in his room and had dressed again before he came upon Mrs. Acton,
sitting half asleep on a secluded strip of veranda. She roused herself
and smiled when she saw him.
"So you have come back at last. We have been expecting you all the
past week," she said.
"That," returned Nasmyth, "was remarkably good of you. In fact, I have
wondered now and then, with some misgivings, whether you have not seen
too much of me already."
Mrs. Acton laughed. "You needn't worry yourself on that point. We have
all our little hobbies. My husband's is the acquisition of dollars and
the opening of mines and mills. Mine is the amusing of my friends, or,
rather, the permitting them to amuse themselves, which is why I had
Bonavista built. I make only one stipulation--it is that when you stay
with us, you are amused."
With a little sigh of content, Nasmyth settled himself in a canvas
chair, and glanced out between the slender pillars of the cool veranda
at the wall of dusky forest and the flashing sea.
"Ah," he replied, "can you doubt it, my dear lady? After logging camp
and mine and city, this is an enchanted land. I think it is always
summer afternoon at Bonavista."
Mrs. Acton smiled at him graciously. "That," she observed, "was quite
nice of you. Things haven't gone just as you would have liked them to
go, in the city?"
"They haven't," admitted Nasmyth whimsically. "As a matter of fact,
they very seldom do. Still, I wouldn't like you to think that was the
only reason I am glad to get back."
Mrs. Acton's eyes twinkled. "I imagine I am acquainted with the other.
You were rather tactful in going away."
"I went because Mr. Acton handed me a letter which said that a
business man in Victoria would like a talk with me."
"In any case, Miss Hamilton seems to be under the impression that it
was nice of you."
"Nice of me to go away?" and Nasmyth's tone was mildly reproachful.
"One would not resent a desire to save one any little embarrassment."
"Still," observed Nasmyth, with an air of reflection, "the trouble is
that I couldn't contrive to keep out of her sight continually even if
I wanted to, and"--he lowered his voice confidentially--"as it
happens, I don't."
Mrs. Acton laughed. "I don't know of any particular reason why you
should do that. Violet has probably quite recovered her equanimity and
decided on her attitude towards you." Then she changed the subject
abruptly. "I wonder if I may point out that there has been a change in
you, since my husband brought you here. For one thing, you are much
more amusing. Even your voice is different."
Nasmyth bowed. "But not my hands," he said; and as he held up one
hand, she noticed the scars on it and the coarseness of his nails.
"That tells a tale, I think. My dear lady, I scarcely think you quite
realize all that you have given me. You have never seen how we lived
in the lonely logging camps--packed like cattle in a reeking shed--and
you do not know the grim side of our life in the Bush. It would be no
great use to tell you that I have now and then limped for days
together over the ballast of a railroad track, wondering where my next
dollar was to come from. These are the things one could not expect you
to understand."
Mrs. Acton's face softened a little. "Still, I think my husband does,"
she replied. Then she smiled at him. "It almost seems to me that you
need never go back to that life again unless you like it. I mean, of
course, that, for one thing, your uncle has his views concerning you.
He has to some extent taken Mr. Acton into his confidence."
Nasmyth made no comment, and Mrs. Acton sank down a little further
into her long chair. "The others are down on the beach," she announced
drowsily. "I really think I was going to sleep when you made your
appearance."
Nasmyth could take a hint, and he strolled away down the veranda
stairway and around the edge of the wide clearing in the shadow of the
Bush, until he stood looking down upon the sea from the crown of the
bluff. Then he felt a little thrill, for some twenty or thirty feet
beneath him was a patch of something white in the shadow of the
shrubbery. He went down quietly until he stopped, and, stooping,
touched Violet Hamilton's shoulder. She looked around with a start,
and a faint trace of embarrassment crept into her face at the sight of
him.
"Oh," she said, "I thought you were in Victoria."
Nasmyth stretched himself out upon a ledge of rock near her feet.
"Mrs. Acton was good enough to imply that she had been expecting me
more or less anxiously for several days," he rejoined in a tone of
reproach. "In fact, she used the plural pronoun, which led me to
believe that somebody else must have shared her anxiety. She did not,
however, point out who it was that she meant."
"Her husband, in all probability. She could, at least, speak for
him."
Nasmyth appeared to ponder over this, though his heart was beating
faster than usual, for the suggestion of confusion which he had
noticed in the girl's manner had its significance for him.
"Well," he conceded, "it may have been Acton, but I almost ventured to
believe she meant somebody else. In any case, I shouldn't like to
think you were displeased at my reappearance. If you are, I can, of
course, go away again."
"I am not the only person at Bonavista. Wouldn't anybody else's wishes
count--Mr. Acton's, for instance?"
"No," asserted Nasmyth reflectively. "At least, not to anything like
the same extent."
Violet laughed. "The difficulty is that nobody can tell how much you
really mean. You are so seldom serious." She cast a quick glance at
him. "You were not like that when you first came here."
"Then," said Nasmyth, "you can blame it on Bonavista. As I have been
trying to explain to Mrs. Acton, who made a similar observation, there
is glamour in this air. It gets hold of one. I was, no doubt, a
tediously solemn person when I left the Bush, but you will remember
that soon after I arrived here, you and I sailed out together into the
realms of moonlight and mystery. I sometimes feel that I must have
brought a little of the latter back with me."
Violet said nothing for half a minute, during which she lay resting on
one elbow, looking down upon the cool, green flashing of the water a
hundred feet below, and again Nasmyth felt a little thrill run through
him. She was so very dainty in speech and thought and person, a woman
of the world he had once belonged to, and which it now seemed he might
enter again. Her delicately chiselled, half-averted face matched the
slight but finely moulded figure about which the thin white draperies
clung. She turned and looked at him.
"You certainly can't be serious now," she declared.
"I assure you that when I mentioned the glamour and mystery, I was
never half so serious in my life. They are, after all, very real
things."
He was, as a matter of fact, grimly serious for the moment as he
wondered at the change that had come over him. His life in the silent
Bush, the struggle with the icy river, and even Laura Waynefleet, who
had encouraged him in his work of rehabilitation, had by degrees
become no more than a dim, blurred memory. He knew that he could
recall it all, but he had no wish to make the effort, for it was more
pleasant to hear the sighing of the summer wind about the firs of
Bonavista, and wonder languidly what his companion thought.
"I haven't thanked you for taking care of me the day we were left
behind on the beach," said Violet.
Nasmyth made a sign of protest. "I don't think you are under any very
great obligation to me. As a matter of fact, my efforts on your behalf
nearly resulted in my drowning you. Besides, you see, there was really
not the slightest cause for uneasiness. Acton certainly would have
sent for us when the wind dropped."
"But it might have blown for days."
"Then," said Nasmyth, with a twinkle in his eyes, "we would have lived
on salmon and berries until it stopped. One really can live on them
for a considerable time, though they are not remarkably palatable when
one has anything else to eat; in fact, it's a thing I've done."
Salmon is not esteemed in that country, except for the purpose of
sending East in cans, and it is seldom that anybody eats it except the
Indians. There is probably no diet that more rapidly grows satiating.
"Ah," exclaimed the girl, with a shiver, "it would have been
horrible."
She was evidently not thinking of the salmon, but of the dreary,
dripping Bush, and Nasmyth looked at her with reproach in his eyes.
"I really don't think it would have been," he said. "In fact, I believe
we could have lived there for a little while very contentedly--that is,
when I had fixed things up a bit. After all, there is a certain
glamour in the Bush when one gets used to it."
He saw the faint colour creep into her face, and, though it cost him
an effort, laid a restraint upon himself.
"Well," he said, "I at least would not have felt that I had any cause
to complain, though, no doubt, it would have been different with you.
You see"--and he made an expressive gesture--"I have had a long tough
tussle since I came to Canada, and experiences of that sort have their
effect on one. In fact, they set one apart from those who haven't
undergone them. It seems to have struck you that I was prematurely
solemn and serious when I came to Bonavista."
He thought he saw sympathy in Violet Hamilton's eyes, and her next
observation made it clear that her mind was busy with the suggestion
that he had conveyed.
"After all," she said softly, "you cannot be very much older than I
am."
"Four years, perhaps," returned Nasmyth, with a trace of grimness.
"That is, in one sense. In another, I think I am double your age. You
see, you have never been brought into contact with the realities of
life. If you had been, you would probably not be so ready to take me
for what you think I am, as I believe you have graciously done. After
all, you know so very little about me."
He felt that he was doing no more than discharging an obligation in
giving her this warning. He desired to afford her every opportunity of
satisfying herself concerning him, for he was not a fool, and he had
seen for a moment or two a suggestive softness in her face. It is
possible that she did not know it had been there, but he felt that if
he roused himself and made the effort, he might sweep away the
barriers between them.
Violet appeared troubled by his words. She sat silent, while Nasmyth
wondered what she would say. He was aware that a good deal depended
upon her next remark. Then there were footsteps on the slope behind
them, and, turning suddenly, he saw Acton and another man approaching
them. He rose with a little start when he recognized the second man as
Gordon, who was neatly attired in city clothes. Gordon looked down at
Nasmyth with a faint sardonic smile.
"Mr. Gordon turned up half an hour ago," Acton said. "It appears that
he was going into the city, and got off the cars to talk over things
with you. I believe he had a notion of going on again to-night, but
Mrs. Acton won't hear of it."
Gordon bowed in the direction of his host.
"I'd have put up a more vigorous protest against troubling Mrs. Acton
than I did, if I had felt it would have been of any use," he said.
"Well," replied Acton, smiling, "I guess they'll be getting supper
ready, and we were sent here to bring our friend and Miss Hamilton
in."
They went back to the house together, where they found the long table
spread. It was characteristic of the owner of Bonavista that he still
called the evening meal supper. There were, besides Nasmyth and
Wisbech, five or six other guests from Victoria and one of the rising
cities on Puget Sound, and Gordon speedily made himself very much at
home. Most of his new acquaintances found what he had to say
entertaining, but Miss Hamilton was, as Nasmyth noticed, somewhat
silent. Nasmyth, on his part, felt slightly restless, for his old
comrade's presence had an unsettling effect on him. It was, however,
not until an hour or two later that he and Gordon were able to discuss
their own affairs. They sat on the veranda looking down upon the sea,
while the dusk slowly crept up from the east.
"Now," said Gordon, "I should like to hear what you have done."
"I'm afraid it's not a great deal," replied Nasmyth. "The Crown land
authorities appear disposed to sell the land instead of leasing it,
which of late has been the more usual course; but they insist on
counting a certain proportion of the hillside and big timber in. I may
get one or two concessions, and I'm still keeping the affair before
them. In the meanwhile I've been seeing what can be done to raise
enough capital to take up all the land, but haven't met with any great
success. The folks I've been in communication with, as usual, want all
the profit; in fact, I almost fancy it might be as well to raise what
money we can around the settlement, and content ourselves with
locating a portion of the valley."
Gordon nodded. "You can't do much about the fall until after the
autumn freshets, anyway, and there's a good deal you can't get at
until the frost sets in," he declared. "In the meanwhile the offers
Wheeler and I made you hold."
They discussed the matter until Mrs. Acton appeared on the veranda and
shook her head at them.
"What are you two doing here when there are pretty girls in the house
waiting for a dance?" she inquired.
"I'm afraid we have been very remiss," apologized Nasmyth, when they
joined her. "Still, we didn't know, and we had some business to talk
about."
"There will be plenty of time for that to-morrow."
"The trouble is that I shall be in the city then," said Gordon.
Mrs. Acton laughed. "Oh, no!" she contradicted. "We are all going for
a sail on the straits to-morrow, and we certainly expect you to join
us. In the meanwhile, I believe there are two young women waiting for
partners."
She silenced Gordon's objections as they turned back towards the
house. They found the dancing had commenced, and Nasmyth failed to
secure Miss Hamilton as a partner for any time in the evening. He
could not help a fancy that she had taken some little trouble to bring
about this result.