LISLE GATHERS INFORMATION
Nasmyth's dinner was over and he lay, pipe in hand, in an easy-chair in
his smoking-room, with Lisle lounging opposite him. They had been walking
up partridges among the higher turnip fields all day, and now both were
pleasantly tired and filled with languid good-humor. Nasmyth's house was
old--it had been built out of the remains of a Border pele--and the room
was paneled to the ceiling and very simply furnished. It had an ancient
look and an ancient smell, and the few articles of plain oak furniture
harmonized with it. The window stood wide open, and the fragrance of a
grove of silver firs outside drifted in. The surroundings had their
effect on Lisle, who had not been accustomed to dwellings of that kind.
"You have been here a fortnight and must have formed a few opinions about
us," Nasmyth remarked at length. "You needn't be shy about expressing
them, and I've no doubt there are things you'd like to ask."
"As a whole, my opinion's highly favorable," Lisle announced with a
smile. "I'd be uncommonly hard to please if it weren't."
"That's flattering. But I'm not sure that I meant as a whole; I had a few
particular instances in my mind. Bella Crestwick, for example; I'm
curious to hear what you think of her. She seems quite favorably
impressed with you."
"She's interesting," Lisle replied. "A type that's new to me; the latest
development, isn't it? Anyway, I like her--whatever the admission's
worth--though I must say that I found her rather startling at first.
She's honest, I think, and that counts for a good deal."
"I suppose you're not aware that she's desirably rich?"
"I wasn't. It's not a fact of any moment to me. Besides, I've a suspicion
that it's Gladwyne's scalp she's after."
Nasmyth nodded.
"You're pretty shrewd. Though I've had much greater opportunities for
observation, that idea has only lately occurred to me. Of course, in a
general way, I shouldn't discuss my acquaintances in this casual fashion,
but as you are likely to see a good deal of us there are things you'd
better know."
"I'll explain my point of view," said Lisle, refilling his pipe. "You
have seen something of the kind of life I've led. Half my time, I
suppose, has been spent in primeval surroundings; the rest in contact
with the latest efforts of a rather unfinished civilization. Well, what
you have to show me here is vastly different. These old houses, your
smoothed-down ways, are a revelation to me. The polish on some of your
furniture has taken several hundred years to put on; that in my Victoria
quarters smells of the factory, and the board walls of other hotels I've
lived in rend into big cracks because they're fresh from the mill. I'm
full of interest; everything's new to me. But so far my curiosity's
impersonal; I'm taking no hand in anything."
His companion's face grew grave.
"The trouble is that you may not be able to avoid it later. You're here,
and some part will probably be forced on you. However, as I said, I think
you're right about Bella."
"But her money would be no great inducement to Gladwyne."
"That's not certain. Clarence has a way of squandering money, and you may
as well understand that there's very little to be derived from
agricultural property. George had his mother's money, but he left it to
Millicent; Clarence got only the land. That's what made a match between
them seem so desirable."
"Desirable!" Lisle broke out. "It's impossible! Not to be contemplated!"
"Yes," Nasmyth agreed quietly. "If necessary, it will have to be
prevented. I was only stating popular opinion."
There was something curious in his tone and Lisle looked hard at him.
Their eyes met full for a moment and the thoughts of each were clear to
the other.
"If anything must be done, it will fall to you," Nasmyth went on. "In
this case it would be particularly invidious for me to interfere. But, if
there had been nobody else, I'd have broken off the match."
Lisle made no comment, but there was comprehension and sympathy in his
expression, and Nasmyth nodded.
"Yes," he acknowledged; "it's an open secret that I would have looked for
nothing better than to marry Millicent Gladwyne." He paused with a slight
flush creeping into his bronzed face. "For all that, I knew some years
ago that I hadn't the faintest chance and never would have. I have her
confidence and friendship; that has to be enough."
"I think it's a good deal," said Lisle.
There was silence for a minute or two, and then Lisle asked a question:
"How could a girl like Millicent Gladwyne ever contemplate the
possibility of marrying Clarence?"
"It's puzzling to me. These things often are to outsiders. Still,
Clarence is a handsome man, and I think George was in favor of the match,
which would count with her. Then, in a way, she was always fond of
Clarence, and now that she has the money and he's far from prospering on
the land, the idea that she could set him firmly on his feet by sharing
her possessions with him may prove tempting. It's very much the sort of
thing that would appeal to her."
"You suggest that she isn't strongly attached to the man."
"I really believe she isn't; but, for all that, I'm sometimes afraid
she'll end by marrying him. It's very probable that she suspects some of
his faults, but I'm not sure they'd deter her. It would make her more
compassionate, believing it was her duty to help him--that kind of
thing's an old delusion. Still, to do the fellow justice, he hasn't of
late shown much eagerness to profit by his opportunities."
Lisle mused for a few moments. It struck him that Nasmyth had described a
very fine type of woman, which was quite in accordance with his own ideas
of Miss Gladwyne.
"What led Gladwyne to cultivate Marple and the Crestwicks?" he asked.
"They're different from the rest of you."
"I can't say. It's a point I've wondered about, though Marple and his
rather rowdy friends are prosperous. I can better see why they got hold
of Clarence."
"I don't see it," responded Lisle. "Remember I'm an unsophisticated
stranger in search of information. If they've means enough, can't they
associate with whom they like?"
Nasmyth smiled, but there was a trace of diffidence in his manner.
"In a way, you're right; but there are limits, more particularly in such
a place as this. The counties, I'm sometimes thankful, don't keep pace
with London. It's a little difficult to explain, but we're old-fashioned
and possibly prejudiced here. Anyhow, we exercise a certain amount of
caution in the choice of our friends."
"But Mrs. Gladwyne seems cordial to the people you object to, and one
would imagine that she's the embodiment of your best traditions, a worthy
representative of the old regime."
"Mrs. Gladwyne is a remarkably fine lady, but it's unfortunate that she's
a little deaf and--it must be owned--not particularly intelligent. A good
deal of what goes on escapes her. Besides, she has always idolized
Clarence, and that would account for her not seeing his friends'
failings."
"It's curious that Gladwyne makes so much of that young Crestwick."
"I've wondered about it," Nasmyth confessed. "The lad's vicious--and I've
an idea that the influence Clarence has over him isn't beneficial. In
fact, I'm sorry for his sister. She has been given her head too young,
but, in my opinion, the girl's the pick of a very indifferent bunch."
"But you haven't accounted for these people's desire to be on good terms
with Gladwyne."
Nasmyth hesitated.
"Oh, well, since you're so persistent, the Crestwicks have evidently been
left with ample means, acquired by their parents, not much education, and
big ambitions. They can get into certain circles, but that won't content
them, and other doors, which Gladwyne can open to them, are shut. After
all, he's a good sportsman, a man of some culture, with a manner that's
likely to impress such people. The lad's holding on to him and taking his
worst aspect for a copy, while Clarence seems willing to extend his
patronage."
"For some consideration?"
Nasmyth looked disturbed.
"It's unpleasant, but I can't help feeling that you're right. One way or
another, young Crestwick will have to pay his entrance fees." He rose and
stretched himself lazily. "I'll spoil my temper if I say any more about
it, and as we've had a long day I'm off to bed."
Lisle followed him from the room, but he was up early the next morning
and strolled down to the river while the light was creeping across the
moors and the dew lay thick upon the grass, thinking over what he had
heard on the previous night. It was his nature to be interested in almost
everything and he was curious to learn what he could of the people to
whom his father had belonged. In Canada he had, for the most part, met
only men of somewhat primitive habits and simple desires, grappling with
rock and forest, or with single purpose toiling to acquire wealth in the
new cities. What was more to the purpose, few of them were married. Now
he was thrown among a people not more intelligent--indeed, he thought
they were less endowed with practically useful knowledge--but in some
respects more complex, actuated by different and less obvious ambitions
and desires. He felt impelled to watch them, though he recognized that,
as Nasmyth had predicted, this might not be all. It was possible that
sooner or later he would be drawn into action.
He reached the stream at a spot where it flowed, still and clear, beneath
a birch wood. A few of the leaves were green, but most of them gleamed a
delicate saffron among the gray and silver stems, and the ground beneath
was flecked with yellow. Behind the trees rough, lichened rock and stony
slopes ran up to a bare ridge, silhouetted against the roseate glow of
the morning sky. The sun had not risen, the water lay in shadow; it was
very quiet and rather cold, and Lisle was surprised to see Millicent
Gladwyne picking her way cautiously over a bank of stones. It was only
her movements that betrayed her, for her neutral-tinted attire harmonized
with the background; but when she caught sight of him she left the foot
of the slope she was skirting and came directly toward him. He thought
she looked wonderfully fresh and wholesome, and he noticed that she
carried a small camera.
"I'm afraid you have spoiled my sport," she laughed. "I was after an
otter--though you mustn't tell Nasmyth that there is one about here."
"Certainly not," acquiesced Lisle. "But why?"
"He would consider it his duty to bring up the hounds the next meet.
Isn't it curious how slaughter appeals to a man? But Nasmyth isn't
unreasonable; there are reserves in which even the jays he longs to shoot
have sanctuary."
"But you were looking for an otter?"
"Yes; I wanted its picture, not its life. I've got several, but I'm not
satisfied; though I've been lucky lately. I got a dabchick--they're
growing scarce--not long ago."
"We'll try the next pool, if you'll let me come," suggested Lisle. "I'm
pretty good at trailing. But what do you want with their pictures?"
"For my book," she told him. "I have to make ever so many drawings in
color before I get them right. If you're fond of the wild creatures, I'll
show them to you."
Lisle said that he would be delighted, and they went on, keeping back
among tall brushwood where they skirted the swift stream at the head of
the pool, and then proceeding cautiously with the outline of their
figures softened by the heathy slopes behind. At length, creeping up
through a thin growth of alders, they stopped near another still reach
and the girl pointed to a few floating objects on its surface.
"You're good at trailing or they'd have taken fright," she said. "Still,
I think I will surprise you, if you will wait here."
"Mallard," Lisle commented. "Young birds--even where we seldom disturb
them, they're shy."
She slipped away through the alders and he noticed how little noise she
made, though the lower branches here and there brushed against her
gliding form. She was wonderfully light and graceful in her movements. As
she came out into the open there was a startled quack or two from the
birds. Lisle expected to see them rise from the water, but she called
softly and, to his vast astonishment, they ceased paddling away from her.
She called again and they turned and swam cautiously toward her, and when
she took a handful of something from a pocket and flung it upon the
surface of the stream, three or four heads were stretched forward to
seize the morsels.
While the birds drew nearer Lisle looked on admiring. She had roused his
interest when he had first seen her in her rich evening dress, but now he
thought she made a far more striking picture, and her sympathy with the
timid wild creatures which evidently knew and trusted her awakened
something responsive in him. Half the pool now glimmered in the rosy
light, with here and there an alder branch reflected upon its mirror-like
surface, and Millicent stood on a strip of gravel with her figure clearly
outlined against it. Dressed in closely-fitting, soft-colored tweed, tall
and finely symmetrical, she harmonized with rock and flood wonderfully
well. Lisle had occasionally seen a bush rancher's daughter, armed with
gun or fishing-rod, look very much at home in similar surroundings; but
this English lady, of culture and station, reared in civilized luxury,
appeared equally in her right place.
He afterward recollected each adjunct of the scene--the stillness, the
pale gleam of the water, and the aromatic smell of fallen leaves, but the
alluring, central figure formed the sharpest memory. By and by she
clapped her hands, the ducks rose and flew away up-stream with necks
stretched out, and she came back toward him, laughing softly.
"Sometimes they will come almost up to my feet; but I'm afraid it's
hardly fair to inspire them with an undue confidence in human nature. It
might cost them dear."
"You're wonderful!" Lisle exclaimed, expressing what he felt, for she
seemed to him endowed with every gracious quality.
"Oh," she smiled, "there's nothing really remarkable in what I showed
you. I happened to find the nest and by slow degrees disarmed the mother
bird's suspicions; mallard have been domesticated, you know, though
they're often hard to get very near. But we may as well turn back; it's
now too late to see an otter. I'm inclined to think they're the shyest of
all the British wild creatures."
They moved away down-stream side by side, and some time later she left
him where a stile-path crossed a meadow.
"Come and see my drawings whenever you like," she said on parting.
Lisle determined to go as soon as possible. Quite apart from the
drawings, the idea of going had its attractions for him, and he walked
homeward determined that this girl should never marry Clarence Gladwyne.
It was unthinkable--that was the only word for it.