The Greater Power

Violet said nothing for half a minute, during which she lay resting on one elbow, looking down upon the cool, green flashing of the water a hundred feet below, and again Nasmyth felt a little thrill run through him. She was so very dainty in speech and thought and person, a woman of the world he had once belonged to, and which it now seemed he might enter again. Her delicately chiselled, half-averted face matched the slight but finely moulded figure about which the thin white draperies clung. She turned and looked at him.

“You certainly can’t be serious now,” she declared.

“I assure you that when I mentioned the glamour and mystery, I was never half so serious in my life. They are, after all, very real things.”

He was, as a matter of fact, grimly serious for the moment as he wondered at the change that had come over him. His life in the silent Bush, the struggle with the icy river, and even Laura Waynefleet, who had encouraged him in his work of rehabilitation, had by degrees become no more than a dim, blurred memory. He knew that he could recall it all, but he had no wish to make the effort, for it was more pleasant to hear the sighing of the summer wind about the firs of Bonavista, and wonder languidly what his companion thought.

“I haven’t thanked you for taking care of me the day we were left behind on the beach,” said Violet.

Nasmyth made a sign of protest. “I don’t think you are under any very great obligation to me. As a matter of fact, my efforts on your behalf nearly resulted in my drowning you. Besides, you see, there was really not the slightest cause for uneasiness. Acton certainly would have sent for us when the wind dropped.”

“But it might have blown for days.”

“Then,” said Nasmyth, with a twinkle in his eyes, “we would have lived on salmon and berries until it stopped. One really can live on them for a considerable time, though they are not remarkably palatable when one has anything else to eat; in fact, it’s a thing I’ve done.”

Salmon is not esteemed in that country, except for the purpose of sending East in cans, and it is seldom that anybody eats it except the Indians. There is probably no diet that more rapidly grows satiating.

“Ah,” exclaimed the girl, with a shiver, “it would have been horrible.”

She was evidently not thinking of the salmon, but of the dreary, dripping Bush, and Nasmyth looked at her with reproach in his eyes.

“I really don’t think it would have been,” he said. “In fact, I believe we could have lived there for a little while very contentedly–that is, when I had fixed things up a bit. After all, there is a certain glamour in the Bush when one gets used to it.”

He saw the faint colour creep into her face, and, though it cost him an effort, laid a restraint upon himself.

“Well,” he said, “I at least would not have felt that I had any cause to complain, though, no doubt, it would have been different with you. You see”–and he made an expressive gesture–“I have had a long tough tussle since I came to Canada, and experiences of that sort have their effect on one. In fact, they set one apart from those who haven’t undergone them. It seems to have struck you that I was prematurely solemn and serious when I came to Bonavista.”

He thought he saw sympathy in Violet Hamilton’s eyes, and her next observation made it clear that her mind was busy with the suggestion that he had conveyed.

“After all,” she said softly, “you cannot be very much older than I am.”

“Four years, perhaps,” returned Nasmyth, with a trace of grimness. “That is, in one sense. In another, I think I am double your age. You see, you have never been brought into contact with the realities of life. If you had been, you would probably not be so ready to take me for what you think I am, as I believe you have graciously done. After all, you know so very little about me.”

He felt that he was doing no more than discharging an obligation in giving her this warning. He desired to afford her every opportunity of satisfying herself concerning him, for he was not a fool, and he had seen for a moment or two a suggestive softness in her face. It is possible that she did not know it had been there, but he felt that if he roused himself and made the effort, he might sweep away the barriers between them.

Violet appeared troubled by his words. She sat silent, while Nasmyth wondered what she would say. He was aware that a good deal depended upon her next remark. Then there were footsteps on the slope behind them, and, turning suddenly, he saw Acton and another man approaching them. He rose with a little start when he recognized the second man as Gordon, who was neatly attired in city clothes. Gordon looked down at Nasmyth with a faint sardonic smile.

“Mr. Gordon turned up half an hour ago,” Acton said. “It appears that he was going into the city, and got off the cars to talk over things with you. I believe he had a notion of going on again to-night, but Mrs. Acton won’t hear of it.”

Gordon bowed in the direction of his host.

“I’d have put up a more vigorous protest against troubling Mrs. Acton than I did, if I had felt it would have been of any use,” he said.

“Well,” replied Acton, smiling, “I guess they’ll be getting supper ready, and we were sent here to bring our friend and Miss Hamilton in.”

They went back to the house together, where they found the long table spread. It was characteristic of the owner of Bonavista that he still called the evening meal supper. There were, besides Nasmyth and Wisbech, five or six other guests from Victoria and one of the rising cities on Puget Sound, and Gordon speedily made himself very much at home. Most of his new acquaintances found what he had to say entertaining, but Miss Hamilton was, as Nasmyth noticed, somewhat silent. Nasmyth, on his part, felt slightly restless, for his old comrade’s presence had an unsettling effect on him. It was, however, not until an hour or two later that he and Gordon were able to discuss their own affairs. They sat on the veranda looking down upon the sea, while the dusk slowly crept up from the east.

“Now,” said Gordon, “I should like to hear what you have done.”

“I’m afraid it’s not a great deal,” replied Nasmyth. “The Crown land authorities appear disposed to sell the land instead of leasing it, which of late has been the more usual course; but they insist on counting a certain proportion of the hillside and big timber in. I may get one or two concessions, and I’m still keeping the affair before them. In the meanwhile I’ve been seeing what can be done to raise enough capital to take up all the land, but haven’t met with any great success. The folks I’ve been in communication with, as usual, want all the profit; in fact, I almost fancy it might be as well to raise what money we can around the settlement, and content ourselves with locating a portion of the valley.”

Gordon nodded. “You can’t do much about the fall until after the autumn freshets, anyway, and there’s a good deal you can’t get at until the frost sets in,” he declared. “In the meanwhile the offers Wheeler and I made you hold.”

They discussed the matter until Mrs. Acton appeared on the veranda and shook her head at them.

“What are you two doing here when there are pretty girls in the house waiting for a dance?” she inquired.

“I’m afraid we have been very remiss,” apologized Nasmyth, when they joined her. “Still, we didn’t know, and we had some business to talk about.”

“There will be plenty of time for that to-morrow.”

“The trouble is that I shall be in the city then,” said Gordon.

Mrs. Acton laughed. “Oh, no!” she contradicted. “We are all going for a sail on the straits to-morrow, and we certainly expect you to join us. In the meanwhile, I believe there are two young women waiting for partners.”

She silenced Gordon’s objections as they turned back towards the house. They found the dancing had commenced, and Nasmyth failed to secure Miss Hamilton as a partner for any time in the evening. He could not help a fancy that she had taken some little trouble to bring about this result.

CHAPTER XIX

NASMYTH HEARS THE RIVER

Darkness had settled down on Bonavista next evening when Nasmyth lay in a canvas chair on the veranda, while Gordon leaned against the balustrade in front of him with a cigar in his hand. A blaze of light streamed out from one of the long open windows a few yards away, and somebody was singing in the room behind it, while the splash of the gentle surf came up from the foot of the promontory in a deep monotone. Now and then a shadowy figure strolled into the veranda or crossed it to the terrace below, but for the time being nobody disturbed the two men.

“I haven’t had a word with you since last night,” said Nasmyth. “How are the boys at the settlement?”

“Hustling along as usual.” Gordon laughed. “Is there anybody else you feel inclined to ask about?”

“Yes,” said Nasmyth, “there certainly is. How is Miss Waynefleet?”

Gordon looked down at his cigar. “Well,” he said, “I’m a little worried on her account. She was attempting to do a great deal more than was good for her when I last saw her. They have no longer a hired man at the ranch. Waynefleet, I understand, is rather tightly fixed for money, and, as you know, he isn’t the kind of man who would deny himself. He was talking of selling some stock.”

Nasmyth suddenly straightened himself, and closed one hand rather hard on the arm of his chair.

“What right have you and I to be lounging here when that girl is working late and early on the ranch?” he asked. “Gordon, you will have to buy two or three head of that stock at double value for me.”

“It’s rather a big question;” and Gordon’s tone was serious. “In fact, I fancy it’s one that neither you nor I can throw much light upon. Anyway, I may as well point out that I arrived here only yesterday, and I’m going on again in the morning. As to the other matter, Laura Waynefleet has friends who will stand by her.”

“Don’t you count me one of them?” Nasmyth demanded. “That girl saved my life for me.”

Gordon glanced round sharply, for there were light footsteps on the veranda, and he almost imagined that a white figure in filmy draperies stopped a moment. It, however, went on again and vanished in the shadow.

“I believe she did,” he admitted. “Well, if there’s anything that can be done, you may rely on me.” He made an abrupt gesture, and as he turned, the light from the window fell upon his face, showing the curious smile on it. “What are you doing here?”

He flung the question at his comrade, and Nasmyth, who knew what he meant, sat for a moment or two with wrinkled forehead. There was no reason why he should not stay there so long as Mr. and Mrs. Acton desired his company, but it did not seem fitting that he should spend those summer days in luxurious idleness while Laura Waynefleet toiled late and early at the lonely ranch. Again, he seemed to see her steady eyes with the quiet courage in them, and the gleam of her red-gold hair. Even then she was, he reflected, in all probability occupied with some severe drudgery. It was a thing he did not like to contemplate, and he almost resented the fact that Gordon should have brought such thoughts into his mind. His comrade had broken in upon his contentment like a frosty wind that stung him to action. Still, he answered quietly.

“I am within easy reach of the city here,” he explained. “Acton, who has once or twice given me good advice, is acquainted with most of the folks likely to be of any use to us, and has laid the scheme before one or two of them. That, at least, is one reason why I am staying at Bonavista. It’s perfectly evident that it wouldn’t be any benefit to Miss Waynefleet if I went back to the Bush.”

“No,” agreed Gordon grimly; “if you were likely to be of any use or consolation to her, you’d go, if I had to drag you.”

Nasmyth smiled. He was too well acquainted with his comrade’s manner to take offence at this remark, and the man’s devotion to the girl who, he knew, would never regard him as more than a friend also had its effect.

“Well,” he said, “since plain speaking seems admissible, you are probably aware that Laura Waynefleet has nothing beyond a kindly interest in me. She is, I needn’t point out, a remarkably sensible young lady.”

He stopped somewhat abruptly, for Wisbech emerged from the shadows beneath the pillars, and sat down in a chair close by.

“Yes,” said Wisbech, “I heard, and it seems to me Derrick’s right in one respect. Though I don’t know how far it accounts for the other fact he has just impressed on you, Miss Waynefleet certainly possesses a considerable amount of sense. She is also a young lady I have a high opinion of. Still, if he had gone back to the Bush merely because you insisted on it, I think I should have cast him off.”

Gordon appeared to ponder over this, and he then laughed softly. “It’s quite natural, and I guess I sympathize with you,” he remarked. “In one way, however, your nephew’s acquitting himself creditably, considering that there are apparently three people anxious to exert a beneficent influence upon him. The effect of that kind of thing is apt to become a trifle bewildering, especially as it’s evident their views can’t invariably coincide.”

“Three?” said Wisbech, with a twinkle in his eyes. “If you count me in, I almost fancy there are four.”

Nasmyth said nothing, though he felt his face grow hot. Gordon smiled.

“As a matter of fact,” he admitted, “I had a notion that Miss Hamilton resented my being here. Any way, she didn’t take any very noticeable trouble to be pleasant to me to-day. No doubt she considers any influence she may choose to exert should be quite sufficient.”

“It should be,” said Nasmyth. “That is, to any man who happened to be a judge of character, and had eyes in his head.”

Gordon waved one hand. “Oh,” he averred, “she’s very dainty, and I think there’s a little more than prettiness there, which is a very liberal admission, since I’m troubled with an impression that she isn’t quite pleased with me. Still, when the woods are full of pretty girls, I guess it’s wisest of a man who has anything worth while to do in front of him to keep his eyes right on the trail, and go steadily ahead.” He turned to Wisbech deprecatingly. “We don’t mind you, sir. We regard you as part of the concern.”

“Thanks,” said Wisbech, with a certain dryness. “I believe I am interested in it–at least, financially.”

“Well,” said Gordon, “when I break loose, as I do now and then, I quite often say a little more than is strictly advisable without meaning to. It’s a habit some folks have. Your observation, however, switches us off on to a different matter. I’ve been telling your nephew we leave him to handle the thing and stand by our offers.”

“That is precisely what I mean to do. The affair is Derrick’s. He must take his own course,” declared Wisbech.

Gordon grinned as he turned to Nasmyth. “There will be no reinforcements. You have to win your spurs.” Then he looked at Wisbech. “If you will not be offended, sir, I would like to say I’m pleased to notice that your ideas coincide with mine. He’ll be the tougher afterwards if you let him put up his fight alone.”

“The assurance is naturally satisfactory,” said Wisbech with quiet amusement. Then he held up one hand. “It seems to me the person at the piano is playing exceptionally well.”

They sat silent while the crashing opening chords rang out from the lighted room, and then Nasmyth, who was a lover of music, found himself listening with a strained attention as the theme stole out of them, for it chimed with his mood. He had been restless and disturbed in mind before Gordon had flung his veiled hints at him, and the reality underlying his comrade’s badinage had a further unsettling effect. He did not know what the music was, but it seemed in keeping with the throb of the sea against the crag and the fitful wailing of the pines. There was a suggestion of effort and struggle in it, and, it seemed to him, something that spoke of a great dominant force steadily pressing on; and, as he listened, the splash of the sea grew fainter, and he heard instead the roar of the icy flood and the crash of mighty trees driving down upon his half-built dam. These were sounds which sometimes haunted him against his will, and once or twice he had been a little surprised to find that, now that they were past, he could look back upon the months of tense effort with a curious, half-regretful pleasure. He was relieved when the music, that swelled in a sonorous crescendo, stopped, and he saw Gordon glance at Wisbech.

“I think that man has understanding and the gift of expressing what he feels,” said Wisbech. “The music suggested something to you?”

“The fast freight,” confessed Gordon.–“When she’s coming down the big cañon under a full head of steam. I don’t know if that’s quite an elegant simile, in one way. Still, if you care to think how that track was built, it’s not difficult to fancy there’s triumph in the whistles and the roar of the freight-car wheels.”

Wisbech made a sign of comprehension, and Gordon looked hard at Nasmyth. “It’s your call.”

“I heard the river,” said Nasmyth. “In fact, I often hear it, and now and then wish I didn’t. It’s unsettling.”

Gordon laughed in a suggestive fashion. “Well,” he declared, “most of us hear something of that kind at times, and no doubt it’s just as well we do. It’s apt to have results if you listen. You have been most of a month in the city one way or another. You took to it kindly?”

“I didn’t,” Nasmyth answered, and it was evident that he was serious. “I came back here feeling that I had had quite enough of it.”

“Bonavista is a good deal more pleasant?” And there was a certain meaning in Gordon’s tone. “You seemed to have achieved some social success here, too.”

He saw the flush in Nasmyth’s face, and his gaze grew insistent. “Well,” he said, “you’re not going to let that content you, now you can hear the river. You’ll hear it more and more plainly frothing in the black cañon where the big trees come down. You have lived with the exiles, and the wilderness has got its grip on you. What’s more, I guess when it does that it never quite lets go.”

He broke off abruptly, and just then Acton stepped out from the window. “Mr. Gordon,” he said, “it’s my wife’s wish that you should come in and sing.”

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 fashion, 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 sunshine 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 assured 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 reassuringly. “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 classical features–they’re Nasmyth features–might be of some assistance 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 cañon.”

“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 fashion which suggested that he was pleased. It was some little time later when Nasmyth, pacing moodily over the white shingle 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 shingle 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.

“Stillness sometimes means stagnation. Miss Hamilton,” he said.

The girl flashed a quick glance at him. “Well,” she rejoined, “I suppose it does; but, after all, that is a question we need not discuss. What were you thinking of so hard as you came along? You didn’t see me until you almost stepped upon my dress.”

“That,” said Nasmyth, with a laugh, “is proof that I was thinking very hard indeed. It’s not a thing I often indulge in, but I was thinking of the Bush.”

“You sometimes feel you would like to be back there?”

“No,” answered Nasmyth reflectively; “I suppose I ought to feel that, but I’m not sure that I do.”

“Ah,” Violet remarked, “you have told me a good deal at one time or another about your life and friends there, but I almost fancied now and then that you were keeping something back. After all”–and she smiled at him–“I suppose that would have been only natural.”