Part 38 (1/2)

”I'm afraid I must,” he said slowly, as with an effort. ”You see, there is something I have to talk over with Leger. He expects me. Besides, it would be advisable to send back any of the boys who may be there to see what has become of the major.”

Then he turned abruptly, and Grace, who had scarcely remembered the major, laughed curiously when he went out of the door. She knew now, at least, exactly what she felt for Ingleby, and had he stayed and declared boldly what his wishes were, it is probable that Coulthurst would have been astonished when he came home. Ingleby, however, had gone away, and the girl was left standing, flushed in face, with the melting snow dripping from her, beside the stove, which she remembered with some little satisfaction was precisely what he had told her not to do. Then with a little disdainful gesture she swept into the adjoining room.

XXIII

INGLEBY LOSES HIS HEAD

A keen frost had followed the snow, but there was warmth and a brightness in the little inner room of the Gold Commissioner's house.

Its log walls and double cas.e.m.e.nts kept out the stinging cold, the stove snapped and crackled, and a big lamp diffused a cheerful light. Ingleby, who had just come in, sat with his back to the logs, with Coulthurst and Grace opposite him. Grace was in the shadow, but the light shone full upon the major's weather-darkened face.

”Grace,” he said, ”is, as you can see, none the worse, but it was a fortunate thing you turned up when you did. Very much obliged to you for taking such good care of her.”

It was evident to Ingleby that Coulthurst did not know what had nearly happened at Alison's Sault. He had, in fact, already had reasons for surmising that Miss Coulthurst did not think it advisable to tell her father everything.

”I'm not sure it wouldn't have been better if I had not met Miss Coulthurst, sir,” he said. ”In that case she would probably have gone back, and waited with you until daylight, which would have saved you both a good deal of anxiety. Of course, when we made up our minds to push on, I had no idea the snow would be so bad.”

”It's questionable whether she could have found the way. I could see nothing whatever, and scarcely fancy I would have got here if two of the older prospectors hadn't come with me. In fact, I scarcely remember a worse night anywhere, and one result of it is an unpleasant twinge in the shoulder. I never used to get anything of that kind. I suppose I'm getting old.”

It occurred to Ingleby that Coulthurst was certainly looking older than he had done in England. There was a good deal of grey in his hair, his cheeks were hollower, and there were deepening lines about his eyes.

Ingleby felt sorry for the man, who had served his nation for so small a reward, that after a life of hards.h.i.+p he must bear the burden still, and yet the fact was in one respect encouraging. Since Coulthurst's means were scanty, there was less probability of his objecting too strenuously to the successful miner who aspired to his daughter's hand; and, though not so rich as the one Ingleby had thrown away, Tomlinson's claim was yielding well. He, however, said nothing, and Coulthurst went on again.

”A devil of a night! It would be hard on any one in the ranges. I wonder where Tomlinson could have gone?”

”One would naturally expect him to head for the settlements,” said Ingleby indifferently.

”He left no trail behind him if he did. At least, Esmond's troopers couldn't find any. There was, however, a good deal it is difficult to understand about the affair. One point that would strike anybody is how Tomlinson got away from here without being seen by Esmond, who turned up almost as he must have gone off the veranda.”

”It really is a trifle hard to understand, sir.”

They looked at each other steadily for a moment or two, and then Ingleby could have fancied that there was a twinkle in Coulthurst's eyes.

”Perhaps it was as well he got away after all,” he said. ”Appearances were against him, and it might have gone hard with him; but I can't quite bring myself to believe that Tomlinson did the thing.”

Then Grace, who laughed softly, broke in. ”Of course,” she said, ”you tried very hard.”

A moment later there was a tramp of feet outside, and the major, who pa.s.sed into the outer room, came back in a minute or two. He smiled at Ingleby somewhat drily.

”It isn't news of Tomlinson,” he said. ”Noel has brought the Frenchman over. They've been burrowing into each other's claims, and if I can't straighten the thing out they'll probably settle their differences in their own way with the shovel. I shall probably be half an hour over it, but don't go.”

He went out, and left Ingleby with Grace. She looked none the worse for the journey she had made the previous night, and was dressed with unusual simplicity. Ingleby did not know what the fabric was, or whether the colour was blue or grey, nor did it occur to him that its severe simplicity was the result of skill; but he noticed that it enhanced the girl's beauty and added a suggestion of stateliness to her figure, of which Miss Coulthurst was probably quite aware. She looked up at him with a little smile when a murmur of excited voices rose from the adjoining room.

”They will, of course, both be disgusted with his decision, whatever it is,” she said. ”A Gold Commissioner has really a good deal to put up with.”

”Major Coulthurst's position is naturally a responsible one,” said Ingleby.

Grace laughed. ”With a very disproportionate emolument--which is a point one has to consider after all. I'm not sure it wouldn't have been better if he had been a prospector.”

Ingleby's pulse throbbed a trifle faster. He had no great knowledge of the gentler s.e.x; but he was not a fool, and it seemed to him that the girl had not spoken altogether without a purpose.