Part 35 (2/2)

Nasmyth smiled significantly. ”Well,” he replied, ”I have certainly spent a few months in the wilderness. That is one of the results.”

He meant to indicate the hand that hung by his side in a thick, soft glove by the gesture he made, but it was the other one that Violet and Carshalton glanced at. It was scarred and battered, and had opened in raw red cracks under the frost.

”Ah!” said Carshalton, ”I think I was quite warranted in a.s.suring Miss Hamilton that it was a good deal nicer here. You see, I was up in the ranges for a week or two. I had to come down with my comrade, who sat out one night in the snow. The primeval stillness didn't agree with him.”

He met Violet's eyes, and next moment glanced across the room.

”I don't think I've spoken to Mr. Acton this evening,” he said. ”We'll have a talk about the wilderness by-and-by, Mr. Nasmyth.”

He strolled away, and Nasmyth sat down by Violet's side.

”I fancied the man meant to stay,” he remarked.

Violet leaned back in the lounge, and looked at him a moment or two silently. Her thoughts were confused, and she was uneasy. In the first place, she almost wished it had not been so easy to make Carshalton understand that she wished him to go away; for the fact that she had been able to do so by merely looking at him suggested that there was at least a certain confidence between them, and she was unwilling to admit that such was the case. That, however, was only a minor point.

While Carshalton had spoken of the simple life, and admitted that a few weeks of it was quite enough for him, she had thought with a certain tenderness of the man who had spent months of strenuous toil in the misty depths of the canon. She was glad of this, and felt a slight compunction over the fact that she had seldom thought of him of late. Still, when she saw him bearing the marks of those months of effort on his body and in his worn face, she was sensible that she shrank from him, as she had once done from the dreary, dripping wilderness. This was disconcerting, but she could not drive out the feeling. His worn face vaguely troubled her, and she was sorry for him, but she would not have liked to touch his scarred and roughened hands. She glanced at the injured hand inquiringly.

”It is almost well again. It was crushed beneath a ma.s.s of timber,” he told her briefly.

Conscious that the meeting so far left a good deal to be desired, Violet sat still a moment. It certainly had not afforded her the pleasure she might reasonably have expected, and she subconsciously resented the fact. There was also, as she noticed, a suggestion of uneasiness in the man's scarred face.

”I have been in Victoria a few days,” he explained. ”There was a machine I had to buy, and one or two other matters had to be attended to. Then I got a letter forwarded from Waynefleet's ranch, from which it appeared that Mr. Acton wished to see me.”

A faint sparkle crept into Violet Hamilton's eyes. ”It is evident,”

she observed, ”that we both find it a little difficult to say the right thing.”

”I'm afraid I am now and then a little remiss in that respect. Still, how have I offended?”

Violet contrived to smile. ”I'm not sure it was particularly judicious of you to explain so fully what brought you here. Couldn't you have left me to suggest another reason that would have been a little more satisfactory?”

Nasmyth laughed. ”My dear, you know I have been longing to see you.”

”Ah!” exclaimed Violet, ”I am not altogether sure. Indeed, I could almost fancy that you have been thinking of nothing beyond what you are doing in that horrible canon.”

Nasmyth raised his hand in protest, though Violet was quick to notice the uneasiness in his face; but now the worn look in it roused her pity.

”Well,” she said, ”you can show how anxious you were by staying here at least a week. I want you to stay. Besides, you must for another reason--you are looking almost ill.”

There was, for the first time, a softness in her voice that stirred the man, but the uneasiness that had troubled him did not disappear.

Indeed, it seemed to grow stronger as he glanced about the room, which was furnished artistically, and flooded with light. Mrs. Acton's guests were of the station to which he had belonged, and he would once have found the sound of their voices and their light laughter pleasant. These, however, were things that no longer appealed to him, and he was conscious of a feverish impatience to get back to his work again in the misty canon.

”I'm afraid,” he replied gravely, ”it will be out of the question for me to stay just now. There is so much to do at the canon; and I think you know why I am so anxious to carry the work through.”

The girl looked at him in a curious fas.h.i.+on, and though she was probably not aware of it, there was doubt in her eyes. For the moment she was troubled with a sense of comprehension, and she could not be quite sure whether it was only on her account that he was so determined to carry out the project.

”Well,” she told him, ”I know that Mr. Acton and your uncle are anxious to see you. In fact, I believe they have some suggestions to put before you, and though I do not know exactly what it is, I imagine that you need not go back to the Bush if you will do what they wish.”

She broke off and glanced at him wistfully. ”Derrick, you won't decide rashly. I don't want you to stay away from me.”

<script>