Part 11 (1/2)

”This way, Vernon.”

Clarence swung round with a start and cast a swift glance at the stranger, and Millicent wondered why his face set hard; but the next moment Nasmyth led up the Canadian and presented him. Mrs. Gladwyne had risen and Lisle made a little respectful inclination over the delicate hand she held out. Age had but slightly spoiled her beauty; she had still a striking presence, and a manner in which a trace of stateliness was counterbalanced by gentle good-humor. Lisle was strongly impressed, but, as Millicent noticed, he betrayed no awkwardness.

”I seem to have heard your name before in connection with Canada,” said Mrs. Gladwyne, confusing it with his surname. ”Ah, yes! Of course; it was George's guide I was thinking of.” She turned to Millicent, adding in an audible aside: ”I've a bad habit of forgetting. Forgive me, my dear.”

Everything considered, it was, perhaps, the most awkward thing she could have said; but Lisle's bronzed face was imperturbable, and Gladwyne had promptly recovered his composure as he realized the mistake. Still, for a moment, he had been badly startled. n.o.body noticed Nasmyth, which was fortunate, because his unnatural immobility would have betrayed him.

”I'd been expecting you both earlier; told you to come to dinner,” said his host.

Then he addressed Lisle.

”As my mother mentioned, I had once something to do with a man called Vernon, in Canada.”

Knowing what he did, Lisle fancied that Gladwyne's indifferent tone had cost him an effort.

”It's only my Christian name, as you have heard,” he explained.

”You were up in the bush with Nasmyth, were you not?”

”Yes,” answered Lisle. ”I met him quite by chance in a Victoria hotel when I happened to have a few weeks at my disposal which I thought of spending in the wilds. When he heard that I intended making a trip through the northern part of the country and suggested that we should go together I was glad to consent.”

”Then you belong to Victoria?”

”I was located there when I met Nasmyth. Before that I was up in the Yukon district for some time. Since leaving him I've lived in the city.”

He thought Gladwyne was relieved at his answer, for the latter smiled genially.

”Well,” he said, ”we must try to make your visit to this country pleasant.”

Shortly after this, the group broke up and Gladwyne, escaping from his guests, slipped out on to the terrace and walked up and down. Nasmyth had merely mentioned that he had a Canadian friend staying with him; somehow a formal introduction had been omitted during the day on the moors, and Gladwyne had been badly disconcerted when he heard the man addressed as Vernon. The name vividly recalled a Canadian episode that he greatly desired to forget, and he had, indeed, to some extent succeeded in doing so. That unfortunate affair was done with, he had a.s.sured himself; for two years it had scarcely been mentioned in his hearing, but for a horrible moment which had taxed his courage to the utmost he had almost fancied that it was about to be brought to light again. Lisle's answer and manner had, however, rea.s.sured him. Nasmyth had met the man accidentally and it was merely as the result of this that they had made the journey through the bush together. It was evident that he had been needlessly alarmed.

For all that, he was troubled. Living for his own pleasure, as he did, he was nevertheless a man who valued other people's good opinion and prided himself upon doing the correct and most graceful thing. There was no doubt that he had once badly failed in this, but it was in a moment of physical weakness, when he was exhausted and famis.h.i.+ng. After all, it was most probable that his cousin had died before he could have reached him, and there were, he thought, few men who, if similarly situated, would have faced the risk of the return journey. Still, the truth would have had an ugly sound had it come out. This was why he had spread the story of the guide's defection, which he now regretted. It might not have been strictly necessary, but he had reached the trappers' camp on the verge of a collapse, too far gone to reason out the matter calmly. A man in that condition could hardly be held accountable for his action. Besides, it was incredible that the guide's statement that he had made the journey without replenis.h.i.+ng his provisions could be correct.

His reflections were interrupted by Mrs. Gladwyne, who came out, wrapped in a shawl.

”Why are you here alone?” she asked. ”You look disturbed. Has anything gone wrong?”

Gladwyne was sorry that she had joined him where the light from a window fell on his face, but he smiled.

”No,” he answered quietly, for he was always gentle with her. ”I only felt that I'd rather avoid the chatter of the others for a few minutes. I suppose it was the man's name, together with your reference to George, that upset me.”

Mrs. Gladwyne laid her hand on his arm. She was inordinately fond and proud of the son whom she had spoiled.

”I sometimes think you are too sensitive on that point, Clarence,” she said. ”Of course, it was very tragic and we both owe George a great deal, but you did all that anybody could have done.”

The man winced, and it was fortunate that they had now left the light behind and his mother could not see his face.

”I could have stayed and died with him,” he broke out with unaffected bitterness. ”There were times at the beginning when I was sorry I let him send me away.”

Mrs. Gladwyne shook her head reproachfully. She was gracious and quietly dignified and refined in thought, but for all that she was not one to appreciate such a sacrifice as he had indicated.