Part 16 (1/2)
”There's a countrywoman of yours present, who doesn't know many of our people yet. I should like to present you to her. She comes, I understand, from the same wilds which sheltered you. Mrs. Leslie, this is a special _protege_ of mine, Mr. Thurston, who could give you all information about the mountains in which your husband talks of banis.h.i.+ng you.”
A handsome, tastefully-dressed woman turned more fully towards them, and for a moment Geoffrey stood still in blank astonishment. The average man would find it disconcerting to be brought, without warning, suddenly face to face in a strange country with a woman who had discarded him, and Thurston showed slight embarra.s.sment.
”Mrs. Henry Leslie! But you evidently know each other!” exclaimed the hostess, whose quick eyes had noticed his startled expression.
Millicent had changed since the last time Geoffrey saw her. She had lost her fresh cream and rose prettiness, but had gained something in place of it, and though her pale blue eyes were too deeply sunk, her face had acquired strength and dignity. She was, as he had always found her, perfectly self-possessed. With a quick glance, which expressed appeal and warning, she said:
”We are not quite strangers. I knew Mr. Thurston in England.”
The young Englishman and his countrywoman moved away together, and Geoffrey presently found himself standing in a broad corridor with Millicent's hand upon his arm. Through a long window which opened into a balcony the clear moonlight shone. A wide vista of forest and sparkling sea lured them out of doors.
”A breath of fresh air would be delightful. It would be quiet out there, and I expect you have much to tell me.” It was Millicent who spoke, with quiet composure, and her companion wondered at his own lack of feeling. After the first shock of the surprise he was sensible of no particular indignation or emotion. It seemed as if any tenderness that he had once felt for her had long since disappeared. There was little that he cared to tell her; but, prompted by some impulse which may have been mere curiosity, he drew the window open and they pa.s.sed out upon the balcony.
”This reminds one of other days,” said the woman, with a sigh. ”Had I known you were here, I should have dreaded to meet you, but it is very pleasant to see you again. You have surely altered, Geoffrey. I should hardly have expected to find you so friendly.”
”I am not in the least inclined to reproach you for the past,” was the sober answer. Geoffrey was distinctly perplexed, for he had acquired a clearer perception of Millicent's character since he left England, and now he felt almost indignant with himself for wondering what she wanted. Glancing at her face he was conscious of a certain pity as well as a vague distrust, for it was evident that her life had not been altogether smooth or her health really robust. But the fact that she should recall the far-off days in England jarred upon him.
”It is a relief to learn that you are not angry, at least. What are you doing over here, Geoffrey?” she asked.
”Reclaiming a valley from a river. Living up among the mountains in the snow,” was the answer.
”And you like it? You can find happiness in the hard life?”
”Better than anything I ever undertook before. Happiness is a somewhat indefinite term, and, perhaps because I have seldom found leisure to consider whether I am happy or not, the presumption is that I am at least contented.”
Millicent sighed and her face grew sad, while Thurston rebelled against an instinctive conviction that she knew a wistful expression was becoming to her and was calculated to appeal to a male observer.
”One could envy you!” she said softly, and Geoffrey, rising superior to all critical thoughts, felt only sincere pity.
”Have you not been happy in--Canada, Millicent?” he inquired, and if the woman noticed how nearly he had avoided a blunder, which is distinctly probable, she at least made no sign.
”I can't resist the temptation to answer you frankly, Geoffrey,” she replied. ”I have had severe trials, and some, I fear, have left their mark on me. There are experiences after which one is never quite the same. You heard of the financial disaster which overtook us? Yes?
Black days followed it, but Mr. Leslie has hopes of succeeding in this country, and that will brighten the future--indirectly even--for me.”
”Ah!” Geoffrey spoke with a peculiar inflection of the voice, for though he could forgive the woman now, he could not forget his resentment towards the man who had supplanted him. ”For your sake, I hope he will.”
Millicent glanced at him sideways, and, as if anxious to change the subject, asked:
”Is it the Orchard Valley you are endeavoring to reclaim? Yes. I might have guessed it. I have heard people say that the scheme of Mr.
Savine, if that is his name, is impracticable. It is characteristic of you, Geoffrey, to play out a losing game, but, with one's future at stake, is it wise?”
”I do not know that I was ever particularly remarkable for wisdom,”
Geoffrey answered with a shake of the head. ”The scheme in question is, however, by no means so impracticable as some persons imagine it to be.”
”Then you still hope for success. Have you not failed in one or two of your efforts?”
Millicent's voice was politely indifferent, but a certain keenness in her eyes, which did not escape Geoffrey's notice, betrayed more than a casual interest. Thurston afterwards decided that the shock of the unexpected meeting had the effect of rendering his perceptions unusually quick.
”I have not been often successful,” he admitted, with a laugh, ”but my employer is, as you may have heard, a sanguine person, and has not hitherto been beaten.”