Part 44 (2/2)

”Perhaps I'd better mention that I spoke to Kenwyne and Broadwood, and they were willing that I should have the agency.”

”That's so. I have a letter from Kenwyne, who says he'd like to give you a lift, but leaves me to decide.”

”Then his wishes ought to count. You must see that your position at Allenwood won't be easy; it will need some tact to make it comfortable, and your giving me the post would go a long distance in your favor. You can't afford to disregard our people's feelings until you've made your footing good.”

”Can I not?” Harding's patience was exhausted. ”Have I ever tried to gain your friends' favor by indulging any of their crank notions? If necessary, I'll put my plans through in spite of the crowd!” He checked himself. ”But this has nothing to do with the matter. You're not the man I want.”

”May I inquire what kind of a man you do want?”

”First of all, one I can trust.”

Gerald colored, but he got up with some dignity and moved toward the door.

”You may regret your decision,” he said threateningly.

Harding sat silent until the door closed, and then he went over to the window and looked out at the narrow street with a frown. He was angry, but he did not think he had been too severe. It was plain that he might have made things easier for himself by falling in with Gerald's suggestion; the fellow was a favorite at Allenwood, where his last offense was known only to one or two people. Harding had no doubt that Mowbray would have appreciated his giving his son another chance; and Beatrice would have thought it generous. For all that, the business of the settlement could not be done by wastrels; and Harding felt that he could not secure a personal advantage by a breach of trust.

Gerald's feelings about the matter were far from pleasant. Returning to his second-cla.s.s hotel he endeavored to solace them with a drink before he sat down in the untidy lounge to consider. He had been grossly insulted; but he persuaded himself that this did not trouble him most.

The worst was that Harding was a coa.r.s.e, low-bred brute, and was, unfortunately, going to marry Beatrice. Gerald had not hesitated about sacrificing his sister to save himself, but it was easy for him now to feel that she was making a grave mistake. It was perhaps curious that he had preserved a keen sense of family pride, and a belief that people of his station must keep up their dignity; but he was honest as far as he went. He knew that he had by no means lived up to his creed; but, while some allowances must be made for men, this did not apply to women. It was essential that they should remember what was due to their birth and rank. On no account should a well-bred girl marry beneath her.

He went to the bar for another drink, and afterward became convinced that Beatrice's marriage to Harding could only end in disaster. It must, therefore, be prevented. He could not see how this was to be done, but chance might provide a means.

In the meanwhile he was confronted by the stern necessity for earning his living. Taking up a newspaper, he studied the advertis.e.m.e.nts; but unfortunately there seemed to be no demand for people with refined tastes and polite accomplishments in Canada. Farm teamsters were wanted, and shovel hands for a branch railroad; but these occupations did not appeal to Gerald. A clerk was required at a new hotel. Well, that was more in his line, and he set off to interview the proprietor. After a few curt questions the man dismissed him, and Gerald spent the next day or two moodily walking about the town, until it occurred to him that he had better see what Davies could do. The fellow, who knew the worst of him, owed him something. He felt much less bitter against the moneylender, who had helped to ruin him, than he did against Harding, whom he had injured.

Davies was disengaged when Gerald entered.

”So you're up against it!” he remarked. ”Your friends at Allenwood have no use for you?”

”It looks like that. Otherwise I wouldn't have come here.”

”I see they're opening an office in this city.”

”Harding's in charge. I don't get on with him.”

”Well, perhaps that's natural.” Davies was keen enough to notice the rancor in Gerald's tone. He was afraid his plans about Allenwood might have to be abandoned, but if he were able to go on with them, Harding would prove his most dangerous opponent.

”I guess Mr. Harding talked pretty straight to you?” he suggested.

”He took an unfair advantage of my position!”

”So you thought you'd strike me for a job? I guess you know you're not worth much.”

Gerald winced at this, but he could not resent it. His father had disowned him, and, except for a surrept.i.tious gift from his mother, he had no resources.

”It's plain that I can't insist upon good terms,” he replied. ”I quite expected you to see it.”

Davies considered. He did not suspect Mowbray of any fondness for steady work, and he thought his services as a clerk would be dear at five dollars a week; but the fellow was shrewd and plausible, and had what Davies called tone. Well-brought-up young Englishmen and a few Americans of the same stamp were coming into Manitoba looking for land, and Mowbray, who understood these people, might act as a decoy. Then, he knew all about Allenwood, and this knowledge might be useful later. On the whole, Davies thought he would take the risk of employing him.

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