GLADWYNE GAINS A POINT
Some weeks had passed since the accident and Lisle was lying one
afternoon on a couch near a window of Nasmyth's sitting-room. Two or
three Canadian newspapers lay on the floor and he held a few letters in
one hand. The prospect outside was cheerless--a stretch of leaden-colored
moor running back into a lowering sky, with a sweep of fir wood that had
lost all distinctive coloring in the foreground. He was gazing at it
moodily when Millicent came in. His face brightened at the sight of her,
and he raised himself awkwardly with his uninjured arm, but she shook her
head at him in reproof.
"You had orders to keep as quiet as possible for some time yet. Lie down
again!"
"Keeping quiet is fast breaking me up," he protested. "I'm quite able to
move about."
"All the same, you're not to try."
He looked at her with a twinkle in his eyes.
"Then I suppose I'll have to give in. You're a determined person. People
do what you ask them without resenting it. You have an instance here,
though in a general way it's a very undignified thing to be ordered
about."
He resumed his former position and she seated herself.
"I don't see why you should drag my character in," she objected with a
smile. "Other people who occasionally obey me don't say such things."
"They're English; that accounts for a good deal. I'm inclined to think my
power of expressing my feelings on any point is a gift, though it's one
that's not uncommon in the West."
"Doesn't it presuppose an assurance that any one you address must be
interested in your views?"
"I deserve that," he laughed; "but you're not quite right. We say, in
effect, 'These are my sentiments, but I won't be down-hearted if you
haven't the sense to agree with them.' The last, however, doesn't apply
to you."
"Thank you for the explanation," she rejoined. "But why do you insist on
a national difference? You're really English, aren't you, in Canada?"
"No," he answered; "you and the others who talk in that strain are
mistaken. We're a brand new nation still fusing and fuming in the
melting-pot. The elements are inharmonious in some respects--French from
the Laurentian littoral, Ontario Scots, Americans, Scandinavians,
Teutons, Magyars, Slavs. The English element's barely strong enough to
temper the mixture; the land's too wide and the people too varied for
British traditions to bind. When the cooling amalgam's run out it will be
into a fresh mold."
"One made in Pennsylvania, or wherever the American foundries are?"
"They run the one you have in mind at Washington. You understand things a
good deal better than many people I've talked to here; but you're not
right yet. If Canadians deliberately chose the American mold because it
was American, a number of us would kick; but the cause is a bigger one
than that. From Texas to Athabasca, from Florida to Labrador, pretty much
the same elemental forces are fanning the melting fires. We have the same
human raw material; we've much the same problems to tackle; the
conditions are, or soon will be, pretty similar. It's only natural that
the result should be more or less identical. I've said nothing yet about
our commercial and social relations with our neighbors."
"But doesn't England count?"
"Morally, yes. It's your part to keep our respect and show us a clean
lead."
"After all," she rejoined, "you, in particular, are essentially English
by connection with the part of the country you're now staying in."
He smiled curiously.
"So you or Nasmyth have been tracing up the family!"
"No," she replied with a little sharpness. "Why should I have done so? Of
course, we knew the name; and you have relations living at no great
distance. I understand Nasmyth got a hint that they would be glad to
receive you."
"Let it go at that," he answered. "My father was cast out because he
dared to think for himself and my mother was Canadian born. I'm a unit in
the new nation; one of the rank and file."
She considered this for a moment or two. It was hardly an English point
of view, but--for his family had long been one of station--there was a
hint of pride that struck her as rather fine about this renunciation. It
was a risky thing to insist on being taken at one's intrinsic value,
stripped of all accidental associations that might enhance it, but she
thought he need not shrink from the hazard. Now and then he spoke with
slightly injudicious candor, and sometimes too vehemently, but in
essential matters he displayed an admirable delicacy of feeling and she
recognized in him a sterling sense of honor.
"I've broken loose again and you're feeling shocked," he said humorously.
"It's your own fault; you have a way of making one talk. There's no use
in discoursing to people who don't understand. However--and it's much
more important--how's the book getting on?"
"More important than my wounded susceptibilities?" Millicent laughed.
"But we won't mind them. I'm pleased to say I've heard from the
publishers that it's in strong request. Indeed, they add, rather
superfluously, that the demand is somewhat remarkable, considering the
nature of the work."
Lisle laughed at this.
"Any more reviews?"
She handed him several and he noticed the guarded, unenthusiastic tone of
the first two.
"These are the people who prefer a thing like a catalogue. This fellow
says the first portion of the book shows most care in particulars and
classification--it's what one would expect from him. That was your
brother's work, I think. He was not an imaginative person."
"No," replied Millicent. "He was eminently practical and methodical."
"There's a great deal to be said in favor of that kind of man. You can
trust him when it's a case of grappling with practical difficulties. But
I feel quite angry with the next reviewer. 'The illustrations are rather
impressionist drawings than a useful guide to identification.' The fellow
would no doubt rather have those stiff, colored plates which are about as
like the real, breathing creature as a stuffed specimen in a museum."
Millicent was pleased with his indignation, but his disgusted expression
changed as he read the next cutting.
"Now," he exclaimed, "we're arriving at the sound sense of ordinary
people, lovers of nature who're not naturalists. This man's enthusiastic;
the next review's even better!" He took up the others and there was keen
satisfaction in his eyes when he laid them down. "Great!" he ejaculated.
"I expected it. You've made your mark!"
The girl thrilled with pleasure; his delight at her success was so
genuine.
"Well," she told him, "the publishers suggest that I undertake another
and more ambitious work. I've often thought that I should like to do so.
The lonely country between the Rockies and the Pacific has a peculiar
interest to me and I've long had a desire to follow my brother's trail. I
don't think it's a morbid wish--somehow I feel impelled to go."
"It's a beautiful, wild land, and the creatures that inhabit it are among
the finest in the world. You promised to let me be your guide, and you
should take Nasmyth, too; he's a man to be depended on. You could start
in the early summer next year."
She smiled at his eagerness; but he suddenly grew thoughtful.
"It's curious how events seem to have started beside those lonely
river-reaches among the rocks," he remarked. "It was there that I got to
know Nasmyth, and through him I met you. It was there that I learned
something about your brother and Clarence Gladwyne. The drama began in
those wilds and I've a feeling that it will end among them."
"The drama?" she queried, and he was conscious that he had made a slip.
"Well," he answered, "before we crossed the big divide I wasn't aware of
your existence, and I'd only a hazy idea that I might come to England
some day. Now, if I may say it, I've joined your group of friends and
entered into their lives. One feels it can't have sprung from nothing; it
isn't blind chance."
She mused for a few moments.
"It's strange," she asserted, "but I've had something of the same
feeling. You seem to have become a part of things, a connecting link
between us all--Mrs. Gladwyne, Clarence, Nasmyth, and even young
Crestwick. One could almost fancy that some mysterious agency were
working upon us through you."
He did not wish her to pursue this train of thought too far.
"I've promised to take Jim Crestwick back with me," he said. "I'm going
as soon as I'm fit to get about."
"Going back, in a few weeks?"
"Yes. In many ways, I'm sorry; but I've had some letters that show it's
needful. Business calls."
She made no reply for some moments. There was no doubt that she would
miss him badly, and she recalled the strange and tense anxiety of which
she had been conscious when he had fallen at the hurdles.
"We have come to look upon you as one of us," she told him simply.
"Somehow we never contemplated your going away, and now it seems an
almost unnatural thing."
"It would be, if I broke off the connection with my English friends, but
I think that can't be done. We're to see more of each other; I'm to be
your guide when you come out next year."
"It's very likely that I shall come."
She left him shortly after this and walked home in a thoughtful mood,
regretting his approaching departure and pondering over what he had said.
With reflection it became clearer that she had entertained the same idea
as his. He and she and the others he mentioned were not acting and
reacting upon one another casually; it was all a part of a purpose,
leading up to something that still lay unrevealed on the knees of
destiny. Perhaps he had been right in speaking of a drama; it suggested a
sequence of prearranged events, springing from George's death. Reaching
home, she endeavored to banish these thoughts, which were vaguely
troublesome, but Miss Hume found her preoccupied and absent-minded during
the evening.
The following day she went over to see Mrs. Gladwyne and was asked to
wait until her return. Shortly afterward, Clarence entered the room where
she was sitting, and she alluded to her visit to Lisle.
"He is going back as soon as he can stand the journey," she said.
Gladwyne made an abrupt movement and she noticed with surprise and some
indignation the relief in his expression. Though the men had not been on
very cordial terms, it puzzled her.
"You don't attempt to conceal your satisfaction," she commented. "Isn't
it a little ungenerous?"
His effort to recover his composure was obvious, but he answered her
quietly.
"I'm afraid it is. After the accident--I think I was partly blamed for
that--he behaved very well; told everybody about the slippery ground and
said what he could to exonerate me."
"I didn't mean to refer to that matter," explained Millicent. She knew
that it was a painful one to him.
"Still," he resumed, "even if it's ungrateful, I am rather glad he's
going."
"'Rather glad' hardly seems to describe it; you looked overjoyed."
"Don't be severe, Millicent. Let me explain. Since Lisle came over,
nothing has been quite the same. He got hold of you and Nasmyth and the
others, and in a way alienated you from me. I don't mean he did it with
deliberate intention, but he took up your time and monopolized your
interest. I've seen much less of both of you."
"And, of late, of the Crestwicks."
"Oh," he returned in his most casual manner, "I shouldn't have had much
more of their company in any case. Jim's going to Canada and Bella to
Sussex. I understand from Marple that it will be some time before she
visits us again."
Millicent was glad to hear it, but she made no comment.
"It's unreasonable to blame Lisle," Gladwyne went on; "though he did make
some unpleasantness with Batley; but I have had so many annoyances and
troubles since he arrived. Everything has been going wrong and I can't
disassociate him from the unfortunate tendency."
He sat where the light fell upon his face, and Millicent, studying it,
was stirred to compassion, which was always ready with her. He looked
harassed and nervous, as if he had borne a heavy strain, and she knew
that the accident had preyed upon his mind. That, she thought, was to his
credit. In addition to this, she had suspected that he was threatened
with financial difficulties. The man had a dangerous gift of rousing
women's interest and sympathy.
"I'm sorry," she said with sincere feeling. "You should go away for a
time. You need a change."
"I've thought of it; but I'm afraid I've been neglecting things lately
and there's a good deal that needs straightening up--farm buildings to be
looked to, the stream to dyke in the low ground, and that draining
scheme."
It was not all acting; he had meant to give those matters some attention
when he found it convenient, and she was far from suspicious and was
quick to take the most favorable view of any one. That he recognized his
duties and intended to discharge them gratified her.
"I think," she told him, "that if you undertake these things in earnest,
you'll be better for the occupation; and they certainly need looking
after."
"I've been slack," he owned. "I seemed to lose interest and, as I said,
I've had difficulties to distract me."
He had struck the right note again. Anything of the nature of a
confession or appeal for sympathy seldom failed to stir her.
"In fact," he resumed, "I'm not clear of troubles now. If I do half that
I'm asked to do, it will nearly ruin me, and I don't know where to begin.
I haven't any great confidence in Grierson's advice; he doesn't seem to
grip things readily."
"The trouble is that he has his favorites," she said bluntly. "I don't
think he suffers from any lack of understanding."
"What do you mean?"
It was unpleasant, but she had courage and the man was doing Clarence
harm.
"Well, there are people who can get very much what they ask Grierson for,
in the shape of repairs and improvements, whether they need it or not."
"At my expense, while the rest get less than they should have?"
"A number of your tenants have got practically nothing for some years.
It's false economy; you'll have to lay out twice as much as would keep
them here satisfied, when they leave you in disgust."
She supplied him with several instances of neglect, and a few clever
suggestions, and he looked at her in admiration which was only partly
assumed.
"What an administrator you would have made!" he exclaimed. "The place
would thrive in your hands and everybody be content. It's obvious, quite
apart from his good qualities, why George was so popular."
Millicent did not suspect him of an intent to flatter her, and she
recognized that there was truth in what he said. She knew everybody on
the estate and knew their most pressing needs, and she undoubtedly
possessed the power of management. She had a keen discernment and could
arrive at a quick and just decision.
"Clarence," she said, "I shouldn't advise you to take the business
altogether out of Grierson's hands. He's honest, so far as you are
concerned, and one or two of the hardest things he did were by your
orders."
"You mean the Milburn and Grainger affair?" He showed a little
embarrassment. "Well, perhaps I was hasty then, but they would have
exasperated a much more patient man. I sometimes feel that I can't please
these people, whatever I do."
She smiled at this.
"They're not effusive, but they're loyal once you win their confidence.
But, to go back to Grierson--let him collect payments and handle the
money, but don't ask his advice as to how you will lay it out. Look
around, inquire into things, and trust your own judgment."
He turned to her beseechingly.
"I can't trust it in these matters--it hasn't been cultivated. If I'm to
keep out of further trouble and do any good, you must help me."
Millicent hesitated. It was not a little thing he asked. To guide him
aright would need thought and patient investigation. Still, there was, as
she had said, so much to be done--abuses to be abolished, houses to be
made habitable, burdens to be lifted from shoulders unable to carry them.
There was also land the yield from which could be increased by a very
moderate expenditure. She would enjoy the power to do these things which
the man's demand for help offered her, but she was more stirred by his
desire to redeem past neglect and set right his failures.
"Well," she promised, "you shall have my candid advice whenever you need
it."
He showed his gratitude, but he was conscious of a satisfaction that had
no connection with the welfare of his estate. He would have a legitimate
excuse for seeing her often; the work jointly undertaken would lead to a
closer confidence. He had always cherished a certain tenderness for her;
he must marry somebody with money before long; and though Millicent's
means were not so large as Bella's, they were not contemptible. He had
not the honesty to let these thoughts obtrude themselves, but they
nevertheless hovered at the back of his mind. It was more graceful to
reflect that Millicent possessed refinement, a degree of beauty, and many
most desirable qualities.