Part 27 (1/2)

Gordon said that he was in Mrs. Acton's hands, and then turned to Nasmyth.

”I've had my say,” he observed. ”If there's any meaning in my remarks, you can worry it out.”

He went away with Acton, and Wisbech looked at his nephew over his cigar.

”Mr. Gordon expresses himself in a rather extravagant fas.h.i.+on, but I'm disposed to fancy there is something in what he says,” he commented.

Nasmyth did not answer him. He was, on the whole, glad that Gordon had gone, but he still seemed to hear the river, and the restlessness that had troubled him was becoming stronger. He retired somewhat early, but he did not sleep quite so soundly as usual that night. As it happened, Gordon rose before him next morning. Gordon went out of doors, and presently came upon Miss Hamilton, who was strolling bareheaded where the early suns.h.i.+ne streamed in among the pines. It struck him that he was not the person whom she would have been most pleased to see, but she walked with him to the crown of the promontory, where she stopped and looked up at him steadily.

”Mr. Gordon,” she inquired, ”what is Laura Waynefleet?”

Gordon started, and the girl smiled.

”I crossed the veranda last night,” she told him, when he hesitated before answering her.

The man looked down on her with an unusual gravity. ”Well,” he said simply, ”Laura Waynefleet is quietness, and sweetness, and courage. In fact, I sometimes think it was to make these things evident that she was sent into this world.”

He thought he saw a gleam of comprehension in the girl's eyes, and made a gesture of protest. ”No,” he a.s.sured her, ”I'm not fit to brush her little shoes. For that matter, though he is my comrade, Nasmyth isn't either. What is perhaps more to the purpose, I guess he is quite aware of it.”

A delicate tinge of colour crept into Violet Hamilton's face, and the man realized that in case his suppositions were correct, what he had implied could hardly be considered as a compliment. He could also fancy that there was a certain uneasiness in her eyes.

”Ah,” she said, ”perhaps it is a subject I should not have ventured to inquire into.”

Gordon smiled rea.s.suringly. ”I don't know of any reason why you shouldn't have done so, but I have scarcely told you anything about her yet. Miss Waynefleet lives at a desolate ranch in the Bush.

Sometimes she drives oxen, and I believe she invariably makes her own clothes. I don't think Nasmyth would feel any great diffidence in speaking about her.”

He believed this, or at least he strove to convince himself that he did, but he was relieved when the appearance of Acton, who strolled towards them, rendered any further confidential conversation out of the question. Gordon set out for Victoria that afternoon, and Nasmyth, who went with him to the railroad, returned to Bonavista in a restless mood, and almost disposed to be angry with his comrade for having rudely broken in upon his tranquillity. In fact, he felt disinclined to face his fellow-guests, which was one reason why he was sauntering towards the inlet when he came upon Wisbech sitting with a book in the shadow of the pines. Wisbech looked up at his moody face.

”You are annoyed because Gordon wouldn't stay?” he suggested.

”No,” said Nasmyth. ”In fact, I'm a little relieved that he has gone away. I naturally like Gordon, but just now he has an unsettling effect on me.”

Wisbech made a gesture of comprehension. ”That man,” he said, ”is in some respects fortunate. He has a simple programme, and is evidently more or less content with it. His work is plain in front of him. You are not quite sure about yours yet. To some extent, you feel yourself adrift?”

”I have felt something of the kind.”

Wisbech thought for a moment. ”I suppose,” he said, ”it hasn't occurred to you that your cla.s.sical features--they're Nasmyth features--might be of some a.s.sistance to you in your career?”

Nasmyth felt the blood rise into his face, but he laughed. ”They certainly haven't proved of any great benefit to me hitherto. It is scarcely likely that they will do so either in the canon.”

”Then you are still determined on directing operations in person? I was commencing to wonder if you had any reason for modifying your plans.”

The man's tone was dry, but Nasmyth met his gaze, which was now inquisitive.

”If it is in my power to do it, I shall certainly run the water out of the valley,” said Nasmyth.

Then he swung round and strolled away, while Wisbech smiled in a fas.h.i.+on which suggested that he was pleased. It was some little time later when Nasmyth, pacing moodily over the white s.h.i.+ngle beside the winding inlet, came upon Violet Hamilton sitting in the shadow of a great boulder. The girl's light dress matched the rock's pale tinting, and he did not see her until he was within a yard or two of her. He stopped abruptly, with a deepened colour in his face. Violet made a sign, which seemed to invite him to sit down, and he stretched himself out upon the s.h.i.+ngle close in front of her.

”It is very hot in the house this afternoon, but it is cool and quiet here,” she observed.

Nasmyth glanced at the still water and the shadow that the pines which clung in the crevices flung athwart the dark rock's side.