Part 4 (1/2)

”And it is now eleven o'clock in the morning,” sighed Lady Merton.

”Well!--I think a little exercise would be a good thing.”

And she descended the steps of the car. The Canadian hesitated.

”Would you allow me to walk with you?” he said, with formality. ”I might perhaps be able to tell you a few things. I belong to the railway.”

”I shall be greatly obliged,” said Elizabeth, cordially. ”Do you mean that you are an official?”

”I am an engineer--in charge of some construction work in the Rockies.”

Lady Merton's face brightened.

”Indeed! I think that must be one of the most interesting things in the world to be.”

The Canadian's eyebrows lifted a little.

”I don't know that I ever thought of it like that,” he said, half smiling. ”It's good work--but I've done things a good deal livelier in my time.”

”You've not always been an engineer?”

”Very few people are always 'anything' in Canada,” he said, laughing.

”It's like the States. One tries a lot of things. Oh, I was trained as an engineer--at Montreal. But directly I had finished with that I went off to Klond.y.k.e. I made a bit of money--came back--and lost it all, in a milling business--over there”--he pointed eastwards--”on the Lake of the Woods. My partner cheated me. Then I went exploring to the north, and took a Government job at the same time--paying treaty money to the Indians. Then, five years ago, I got work for the C.P.R. But I shall cut it before long. I've saved some money again. I shall take up land, and go into politics.”

”Politics?” repeated Elizabeth, wis.h.i.+ng she might some day know what politics meant in Canada. ”You're not married?” she added pleasantly.

”I am not married.”

”And may I ask your name?”

His name, it seemed, was George Anderson, and presently as they walked up and down he became somewhat communicative about himself, though always within the limits, as it seemed to her, of a natural dignity, which developed indeed as their acquaintance progressed. He told her tales, especially, of his Indian journeys through the wilds about the Athabasca and Mackenzie rivers, in search of remote Indian settlements--that the word of England to the red man might be kept; and his graphic talk called up before her the vision of a northern wilderness, even wilder and remoter than that she had just pa.s.sed through, where yet the earth teemed with lakes and timber and trout-bearing streams, and where--”we shall grow corn some day,” as he presently informed her. ”In twenty years they will have developed seed that will ripen three weeks earlier than wheat does now in Manitoba.

Then we shall settle that country--right away!--to the far north.” His tone stirred and deepened. A little while before, it had seemed to her that her tourist enthusiasm amused him. Yet by flashes, she began to feel in him something, beside which her own raptures fell silent. Had she, after all, hit upon a man--a practical man--who was yet conscious of the romance of Canada?

Presently she asked him if there was no one dependent on him--no mother?--or sisters?

”I have two brothers--in the Government service at Ottawa. I had four sisters.”

”Are they married?”

”They are dead,” he said, slowly. ”They and my mother were burnt to death.”

She exclaimed. Her brown eyes turned upon him--all sudden horror and compa.s.sion.

”It was a farmhouse where we were living--and it took fire. Mother and sisters had no time to escape. It was early morning. I was a boy of eighteen, and was out on the farm doing my ch.o.r.es. When I saw smoke and came back, the house was a burning ma.s.s, and--it was all over.”

”Where was your father?”

”My father is dead.”

”But he was there--at the time of the fire?”