Part 6 (1/2)

Anderson examined the speaker, as it were for the first time.

”The man I was speaking of is a French-Canadian,” he said, rather shortly, ”and a Catholic.”

”The very man I want to see,” cried Elizabeth. ”I suppose he hates us?”

”Who?--England? Not at all. He loves England--or says he does--and hates the Empire.”

”'Love me, love my Empire!'” said Elizabeth. ”But, I see--I am not to talk to him about the Boer War, or contributing to the Navy?”

”Better not,” laughed Anderson. ”I am sure he will want to behave himself; but he sometimes loses his head.”

Elizabeth sincerely hoped he might lose it at her party.

”We want as much Canada as possible, don't we?” She appealed to Delaine.

”To see, in fact, the 'young barbarians--all at play!'” said Anderson.

The note of sarcasm had returned to his clear voice. He stood, one hand on his hip, looking down on Lady Merton.

”Oh!” exclaimed Elizabeth, protesting; while Delaine was conscious of surprise that anyone in the New World should quote anything.

Anderson hastily resumed: ”No, no. I know you are most kind, in wis.h.i.+ng to see everything you can.”

”Why else should one come to the Colonies?” put in Delaine. Again his smile, as he spoke, was a little overdone.

”Oh, we mustn't talk of Colonies,” cried Elizabeth, looking at Anderson; ”Canada, Mr. Arthur, doesn't like to be called a colony.”

”What is she, then?” asked Delaine, with an amused shrug of the shoulders.

”She is a nation!” said the Canadian, abruptly. Then, turning to Lady Merton, he rapidly went through some other business arrangements with her.

”Three o'clock then for the car. For this morning you are provided?” He glanced at Delaine.

Lady Merton replied that Mr. Delaine would take her round; and Anderson bowed and departed.

”Who is he, and how did you come across him?” asked Delaine, as they stepped into the street.

Elizabeth explained, dwelling with enthusiasm on the kindness and ability with which the young man, since their acquaintance began, had made himself their courier. ”Philip, you know, is no use at all. But Mr.

Anderson seems to know everybody--gets everything done. Instead of sending my letters round this morning he telephoned to everybody for me.

And everybody is coming. Isn't it too kind? You know it is for Papa's sake”--she explained eagerly--”because Canada thinks she owes him something.”

Delaine suggested that perhaps life in Winnipeg was monotonous, and its inhabitants might be glad of distractions. He also begged--with a slight touch of acerbity--that now that he had joined them he too might be made use of.

”Ah! but you don't know the country,” said Lady Merton gently. ”Don't you feel that we must get the natives to guide us--to put us in the way?

It is only they who can really feel the poetry of it all.”

Her face kindled. Arthur Delaine, who thought that her remark was one of the foolish exaggerations of nice women, was none the less conscious as she made it, that her appearance was charming--all indeed that a man could desire in a wife. Her simple dress of white linen, her black hat, her lovely eyes, and little pointed chin, the bunch of white trilliums at her belt, which a child in the emigrant car had gathered and given her the day before--all her personal possessions and accessories seemed to him perfection. Yes!--but he meant to go slowly, for both their sakes. It seemed fitting and right, however, at this point that he should express his great pleasure and grat.i.tude in being allowed to join them. Elizabeth replied simply, without any embarra.s.sment that could be seen. Yet secretly both were conscious that something was on its trial, and that more was in front of them than a mere journey through the Rockies. He was an old friend both of herself and her family. She believed him to be honourable, upright, affectionate. He was of the same world and tradition as herself, well endowed, a scholar and a gentleman.

He would make a good brother for Philip. And heretofore she had seen him on ground which had shown him to advantage; either at home or abroad, during a winter at Rome--a spring at Florence.

Indeed, as they strolled about Winnipeg, he talked to her incessantly about persons and incidents connected with the spring of the year before, when they had both been in Rome.