Harold Bindloss - The Protector

She waited with flattering interest, and he added: “In both respects, Clermont produce is promising.”

After that he did not remember what they talked about; but the time passed rapidly and he was surprised when Mrs. Nairn rose and the company drifted away by twos and threes towards the verandah. Left by himself a moment, he came upon Carroll sauntering down a corridor, and the latter stopped him.

“I’ve had a chat with Horsfield,” he remarked.

“Well?” said Vane.

“He may have merely meant to make himself agreeable, and he may have wished to extract information about you. If the latter was his object, he was not successful.”

“Ah!” said Vane thoughtfully. “Nairn’s straight, anyway, and to be relied upon. I like him and his wife.”

“So do I,” Carroll agreed.

He moved away, and a few moments later Horsfield joined Vane, who had strolled out on to the verandah.

“I don’t know if it’s a very suitable time to mention it, but are you any nearer a decision about that smelter yet?” he said. “Candidly, I’d like the contract.”

“No,” said Vane. “I can’t make up my mind, and I may postpone the matter indefinitely. It might prove more profitable to ship the ore out for reduction.”

Horsfield examined his cigar. “Of course, I can’t press you; but I may perhaps suggest that as we’ll have to work together in other matters, I might be able to give you a quid pro quo .”

“That occurred to me,” said Vane, “On the other hand, I don’t know how much importance I ought to attach to the consideration.”

His companion laughed with apparent good-humour. “Oh, well!” he answered, “I must wait until you’re ready.”

He strolled away, and presently joined his sister.

“How does Vane strike you?” he asked. “You seem to get on with him.”

"I’ve an idea that you won’t find him easy to influence, and the girl looked at her brother pointedly.

“I’m inclined to agree with you,” said Horsfield. “In spite of that, he’s a man worth cultivating.”

He passed on to speak to Nairn, and by and by Vane sat down beside Jessie in a corner of a big room. It was simply furnished, but spacious and lofty and looked out across the verandah. It was pleasant to lounge there and feel that Miss Horsfield had good-naturedly taken him under her wing, which seemed to describe her attitude.

“As Mrs. Nairn tells me you are going to England, I suppose we shall not see you in Vancouver for some months,” she said presently. “This city really isn’t a bad place to live in.”

Vane felt gratified. She implied that he would be an acquisition and included him among the number of her acquaintances. “I fancy I shall find it a particularly pleasant one,” he responded. “Indeed, I’m inclined to be sorry I’ve made arrangements to leave it very shortly.”

“That is pure good-nature,” his companion laughed.

She changed the subject, and Vane found her conversation entertaining. She said nothing of any consequence, but she knew how to make a glance or a changed inflection expressive. He was sorry when she left him, but she smiled at him before she moved away.

“If you and Mr. Carroll care to call, I am generally at home in the afternoon,” she said.

She crossed the room, and Vane, who joined Nairn, remained near him until he took his departure.

It was late the next afternoon, and an Empress liner from China and Japan had arrived an hour or two earlier, when he and Carroll reached the C.P.R. station. The Atlantic train was waiting, and an unusual number of passengers were hurrying about the cars. They were, for the most part, prosperous people, business men and tourists from England, going home that way, and when Vane found Mrs. Marvin and Kitty, he was once more conscious of a stirring of compassion. Kitty smiled at him diffidently.

“You have been so kind,” she began, and, pausing, added with a tremor in her voice: “But the tickets – ”

“Pshaw!” said Vane. “If it will ease your mind, you can send me what they cost after the first full house you draw.”

“How shall we address you?”

“Clermont Mineral Exploitation. I don’t want to think I’m going to lose sight of you.”

Kitty turned away from him a moment, and then looked back.

“I’m afraid you must make up your mind to that,” she said.

Vane could not remember his answer, though he afterwards tried; but just then an official strode along beside the cars calling to the passengers, and when a bell began tolling Vane hurried the girl and her companions on to a platform. Mrs. Marvin entered the car, Elsie held up her face to kiss him before she disappeared, and he and Kitty were left alone. She held out her hand, and a liquid gleam crept into her eyes.

“We can’t thank you properly,” she said. “Good-bye.”

“No,” Vane protested. “You mustn’t say that.”

“Yes,” said Kitty firmly. “It’s good-bye. You’ll be carried on in a moment.”

Vane gazed down at her, and afterwards wondered at what he did; but she looked so forlorn and desolate, and the pretty face was so close to him. Stooping swiftly, he kissed her, and had a thrilling fancy that she did not recoil; then the cars lurched forward, and he swung himself down.

A month had passed since Vane said good-bye to Kitty, when he and Carroll alighted one evening at a little station in the north of England.

The train went on, and Vane stood still, looking about him with a poignant recollection of how he had last waited on that platform, sick at heart, but gathering his youthful courage for the effort that he must make. It all came back to him; the dejection, the sense of loneliness; for he was then going out to the Western Dominion in which he had not a friend. Now he was returning prosperous and successful. But once again the feeling of loneliness was with him – most of those whom he had left behind had made a longer journey than his.

Then he noticed an elderly man in livery approaching, and held out his hand with a smile of pleasure.

“You haven’t changed a bit, Jim,” he said.

“A bit stiffer in the joints, and maybe a bit sourer,” was the answer; then the man’s wrinkled face relaxed. “I’m main glad to see thee, Mr. Wallace. Master wad have come, only he‘d t’ gan t’ Manchester suddenly.”

Vane helped him to place their baggage in the trap, and then, gathering up the reins, bade him sit behind. After half an hour’s ride through a country rolled in ridge and valley, Vane pulled up where a stile path led across a strip of meadow.

“You can drive round; we’ll be there before you,” he said to the groom as he got down.

Carroll and he crossed the meadow, and passing round a clump of larches, came suddenly into sight of an old grey house with a fir wood rolling down the hillside close behind it. The building was long and low, weather-worn and stained with lichens where the creepers and climbing roses left the stone exposed. The bottom row of mullioned windows opened upon a terrace, and in front of the latter ran a low wall with a mossy coping on which was placed urns bright with geraniums. It was pierced by an opening approached by shallow stairs on which a peacock stood, and between them and the two men stretched a sweep of lawn. A couple of minutes later a lady met them in the hall, and held out her hand to Vane effusively. She was middle-aged, and had once been handsome, Carroll thought, but there were wrinkles about her eyes, which had a hint of hardness in them.

“Welcome home, Wallace,” she said. “It should not be difficult to look upon the Dene as that – you were here so often once upon a time.”

“Thank you,” said Vane. “I felt tempted to ask Jim to drive me round by the Low Wood; I wanted to see the place again.”