Part 30 (1/2)

”There is absolutely no cause for uneasiness. As I said, we had one or two difficulties which may have been vanquished. Your uncle will bear me out in this,” answered Geoffrey, who would have spoken more freely had he not feared the girl's keenness. Helen's face, which was at first scornful, grew anxious as she responded:

”I have no doubt he would! In fact, when I asked him he explained with such readiness that I cannot help concluding you have both conspired to keep me in the dark. Can you not see that, situated as I am in caring for an invalid who will not let his mind rest, uncertainty is almost worse than the knowledge of disaster to me. Will you not tell me frankly what you fear?”

”I would do anything to drive your fears away.” Geoffrey, who felt helpless beneath the listener's searching eyes, spoke with sympathy in his voice. ”But I can only say again there is very slight cause for anxiety.”

Helen turned half from him, angrily, then she faced round again. ”You are not a good dissembler. If quick at making statements you are not prepared to substantiate them,” she declared. ”You would do anything to dispel my fears--but the one most necessary thing I ask. You have pa.s.sed through, or are now facing, a crisis, and though some knowledge of it would be of great help to me you do not consider me worthy of your confidence.”

”Heaven forbid that I should think so. There is no one more worthy--but----” Helen checked him with a gesture.

”I desire the simple truth and not indifferent compliments,” she said.

”You will not tell it to me, and I will plead with you no further, even for my father's sake. When will you men learn that a woman's discretion is at least equal to your own?” With a flash in her eyes, she added: ”How dare you once offer what you did to a woman you had no trust in?”

”You are almost cruel,” Geoffrey answered, clenching his hand as he mastered his own anger. ”Some day, perhaps, you will yet believe I tried to do what was best. Meantime, since I dare not presume to resent it, I must try to bear your displeasure patiently.”

He might have said more, but that Helen left him abruptly.

”It is confoundedly hard. Once strike a certain vein of bad luck and you can neither get around nor under it, but there's no use groaning--and what on earth could I have done?” he said to the whispering firs.

He went back presently to the ranch, and found Helen, who apparently did not notice his return, chatting with Halliday. When the two men bade their host farewell, Halliday, who lingered a few minutes, observed to Thomas Savine:

”I always knew my friend was reckless, but when I spoke as I did I failed to comprehend what was at once his incentive and justification.

I must thank you for your attempt to aid me, but even against the dictates of my judgment I can't help sympathizing with him now. If you don't mind my saying so--because I see you know--I think what he hopes to win is very well worth the risk.”

”I certainly know, and perhaps I am prejudiced in favor of my niece, but I feel tempted to agree with you,” answered Savine. ”There are few better women in the Dominion, but she is wayward, and whether Geoffrey will ever win her only Heaven knows. Meantime, though we depend so much upon him, I am often ashamed to let him take his chances with us.

Believe me, I have endeavored to dissuade him.”

Halliday smiled. ”I am a kinsman of his and know him well,” he said.

”It is quite in keeping with traditions that he should be perfectly willing to ruin himself for a woman, and I am at least thankful that the woman proves worthy. In this case, however, I venture to hope the end may be the achievement of prosperity. I generally speak my mind and hope I have not offended you.”

CHAPTER XXIII

THE ULTIMATUM

Winter creeping down from the high peaks held the whole valley fast in its icy grip when Mrs. Thomas Savine, who was seldom daunted by the elements, went up from Vancouver to persuade her niece to seek sheltered quarters on the sunny coast until spring. Her visit was, however, in this respect a failure, for Julius Savine insisted upon remaining within touch of the reclamation works. Though seldom able to reach them, he looked eagerly forward to Geoffrey's brief visits, which alone seemed to arouse him from his lethargy.

Mrs. Savine and Helen sat in the general living-room at the ranch one day when her brother-in-law came in leaning heavily upon his partner's arm. Geoffrey had set his carpenters to build a sleigh, and from one hill shoulder bare of timber it was possible, with good gla.s.ses, to see what went on in the canon. Savine was listening with evident satisfaction to the tall, frost-bronzed man who led him towards the room that he delighted to call his office, and Mrs. Savine, noticing it, smiled gratefully upon Geoffrey. Worn by anxious watching, Helen was possibly a little out of humor that afternoon, and the sight awoke within her a certain jealousy. She had done her best, and had done it very patiently, but she had failed to arouse her father to the animation he showed in Geoffrey's presence.

”I haven't felt so well since I saw you last,” observed Savine, oblivious for the moment of his daughter. ”You won't fail to come back as soon as ever you can--say the day after to-morrow?”

Geoffrey glanced towards Helen, who made no sign, and Mrs. Savine noticed that for a moment his face clouded. Then, as he turned towards his partner, he seemed to make an effort, and his expression was confident again.

”I am afraid I cannot leave the works quite so often. Yes--we are progressing at least as well as anyone could expect,” he said. ”I will come and consult you whenever I can. In fact, there are several points I want your advice upon.”

”Come soon,” urged Savine, with a sigh. ”It does me good to talk to you--after the life I've lived, this everlasting loafing comes mighty hard to me. I believe once I knew we were victorious I could let go everything and die happy.”

Helen heard, and, overwrought as she was by nights of a.s.siduous care, the speech both pained and angered her. Geoffrey's answer was not audible, as they pa.s.sed on. He came back alone, off his guard for a moment, looking worn and weary, and Mrs. Savine said:

”You are tired, Geoffrey, and if you don't appear more lively next time I will attend to you. No--don't get scared. It is not physic I'm going to prescribe now. Take this lounge and just sit here where it's cosy. Talk to Helen and me until supper's ready.”