Delilah of the Snows

Ingleby looked at Leger, who made a little sign.

"I think we'd better go," he said. "Still, while I have no regret for anything I have done, I should like to thank Major Coulthurst for what is, from his point of view, a clemency we scarcely expected."

Slavin smiled somewhat drily. "You don't want to make any mistake. The major has done what he considers most advisable – just that, and nothing else. Now, before you light out take a hint from me. Canada's quite a big country, but the law of the Empire it belongs to is even a bigger thing. You have come off pretty well this time – but don't try it again."

Ingleby made Coulthurst a little grave inclination. "In spite of Captain Slavin's explanation, I feel we owe you a good deal, sir," he said. "Still, I think he's right in one respect. We attempted too big a thing. Henceforward we'll go to work, little by little, in a different way. We have taken the wrong one, but the hope that led us into it is just as strong as ever."

Coulthurst smiled a little.

"Long before it's realized you and I will be dead. If I ever come across you again under different circumstances it will be a pleasure," he said.

Ingleby turned and went out, taking Leger with him, but he left the latter among the pines and swung into the trail that led past the Gold Commissioner's dwelling. He did not know whether he wished to see Grace or not, but, as it happened, she came out on the veranda as he passed and stopped him with a little sign.

"You are going away, Walter?" she asked.

"Yes," said Ingleby. "In all probability I shall never come back."

The girl's cheeks were flushed, and there was a curious strained look in her eyes.

"You seem," she said, "quite willing to go."

Ingleby looked at her gravely. "It hurts me less than I expected it would have done. Still, even if I had been permitted, why should I wish to stay? I am poor again, and it is very likely shall always be so. There are barriers between you and me which can never be got over."

"You didn't believe that once."

"No," said Ingleby. "Still, I am wiser now, and what I may have to suffer is no more than my desert for believing that any man is warranted in trying to thrust himself above the station he was meant to occupy. That, however, isn't, after all, very much to the purpose."

"I suppose," and there was a tremor in the girl's voice, "you blame me for all that has happened?"

Ingleby's eyes were still fixed upon her with disconcerting steadiness. "It is not my part to reproach you, but I know what you did. You have wrecked the life of my best friend, and turned into a traitor a man whose work and words brought hope to thousands. Sewell will never lift his head again."

He spoke slowly, and a trifle hoarsely, but there was a hardness and resolution in his voice which struck a chill through the girl.

"What did he tell you, Walter?" she said.

"Very little. In fact, only that he had told you the way to Westerhouse; but that was quite enough. I do not know whether you told him that you loved him or not; but it is quite plain to me that you made him think so. Men of his kind do not betray those who believe in them without a reason."

"Walter," said the girl, very softly, "I wonder if – you – ever really loved me?"

Ingleby winced, but there was still no wavering in his eyes. "I do not know," he said. "You are the most beautiful woman I ever met, and I believed I did. Most likely your beauty and all that you stood for dazzled me, and I lost my head. It may have been that – I do not know – for if I had really loved you I should, perhaps, have forgiven you everything."

"And that is too much for you?"

Ingleby stood silent a moment. "If you had loved me, you would never have betrayed me. I am afraid it is."

Grace looked at him steadily, with the colour in her cheeks, and her voice was a little tremulous.

"Perhaps I wouldn't – like you, I do not know." Then she held out her hand. "Don't think too hardly of me. Good-bye, Walter."

Ingleby touched her fingers, for he dared not trust himself further, and swinging his shapeless hat off abruptly turned away, while Grace stood very still until the shadows of the pines closed about him. That was the last she ever saw of him.

It was half an hour later when he walked quietly into the bakery, and came upon Hetty getting her few belongings together.

"I have come back – to the people and the place I belong to. You will not turn me out?" he said.

Hetty's eyes shone softly. "We have been waiting for you, Walter – we knew you would come. Still, I'm not sure you can ever get quite back to where you were before."

Ingleby saw her meaning, for he remembered the locket; and it seemed that Hetty knew what he was thinking, for a little colour crept into her face.

"Well," he said, "I will be patient, and try very hard."

Then he heard footsteps, and, going out, met Leger at the door. The latter turned and came down the trail with him.

"We are taking the trail to-morrow. Are you coming with us?" he said.

"Of course!" said Ingleby, looking at him in blank astonishment.

"In that case there is something to be said – and it is difficult, but Hetty is my sister, after all. Do you know who gave her that locket?"

"I did," said Ingleby, "a long while ago, but I never fancied that she had kept it. Tom, I do not know what your sister thinks of me, but she can't think more hardly of me than I do. Still, there may be one or two other colossal idiots of my description."

"It's quite likely," said Leger drily. "That, however, isn't very much to the point, is it?"

Ingleby stood silent a moment. "Tom," he said, "as you found out, it's difficult – and I don't understand the thing myself. Perhaps Miss Coulthurst dazzled me, and I've been off my balance ever since I came into this valley, but I know now that if I ever marry anybody it will be Hetty. That's a very indifferent compliment to your sister. She will probably be a very long while forgiving me, but I may, perhaps, at last persuade her to believe in me again. Now, are you going to turn me away?"

"No," said Leger. "After that I fancy we can face together what comes."

It was early next morning when they left the valley with an escort of twenty miners to help them across the divide, and Hetty stood by Ingleby's side when they turned for a moment to look back from among the climbing pines. Then, as they turned again, Ingleby met the girl's clear eyes.

"It may be a long while, Hetty, but I think I shall get quite back, after all," he said. "It was in ever wanting to go away that I was horribly wrong."

THE END