Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554 by Harold Bindloss (chrome ebook reader .TXT) 📕

"I Can't Tell You Just Yet; But It's A Comfort To Have Your Sympathy.

Don't Speak To Me For A Little While, Please."

He Went Back To His Place And Watched Her With A Yearning Heart,

Longing For The Power To Soothe Her.  She Looked So Forlorn And

Desolate, Too Frail To Bear Her Load Of Sorrow.

"I Must Try To Be Brave," She Smiled Up At Him At Length.  "And You Are

My Trustee.  Please Bring Those Papers I Laid Down.  I Suppose I Must

Talk To You About The Farm."

It Did Not Strike George That This Was A Rather Sudden Change, Or That

There Was Anything Incongruous In Sylvia's Considering Her Material

Interests In The Midst Of Her Grief.  After Examining The Documents, He

Asked Her A Few Questions, To Which She Gave Explicit Answers.

"Now You Should Be Able To Decide What Must Be Done," She Said Finally;

"And I'm Anxious About It.  I Suppose That's Natural."

"You Have Plenty Of Friends," George Reminded Her Consolingly.

Sylvia Rose, And There Was Bitterness In Her Expression.

"Friends?  Oh, Yes; But I've Come Back To Them A Widow, Badly Provided

For--That's Why I Spent Some Months In Montreal Before I Could Nerve

Myself To Face Them."  Then Her Voice Softened As She Fixed Her Eyes On

Him.  "It's Fortunate There Are One Or Two I Can Rely On."

Sylvia Left Him With Two Clear Impressions: Her Helplessness, And The

Fact That She Trusted Him.  While He Sat Turning Over The Papers, His

Cousin And Co-Trustee Came In.  Herbert Lansing Was A Middle-Aged

Business Man, And He Was Inclined To Portliness.  His Clean-Shaven And

Rather Fleshy Face Usually Wore A Good-Humored Expression; His Manners

Were Easy And, As A Rule, Genial.

"We Must Have A Talk," He Began, Indicating The Documents In George's

Hand.  "I Suppose You Have Grasped The Position, Even If Sylvia Hasn't

Explained It.  She Shows An Excellent Knowledge Of Details."

There Was A Hint Of Dryness In His Tone That Escaped George's Notice.

"So Far As I Can Make Out," He Answered, "Dick Owned A Section Of A

Second-Class Wheat-Land, With A Mortgage On The Last Quarter, Some Way

Back From A Railroad.  The Part Under Cultivation Gives A Poor Crop."

"What Would You Value The Property At?"

George Made A Rough Calculation.

"I Expected Something Of The Kind," Herbert Told Him.  "It's All Sylvia

Has To Live Upon, And The Interest Would Hardly Cover Her Dressmaker's

Bills." He Looked Directly At His Cousin.  "Of Course, It's Possible

That She Will Marry Again."

"She Must Never Be Forced To Contemplate It By Any Dread Of Poverty,"

George Said Shortly.

"How Is It To Be Prevented?"

George Merely Looked Thoughtful And A Little Stern.  Getting No Answer,

Herbert Went On:

"So Far As I Can See, We Have Only Two Courses To Choose Between.  The

First Is To Sell Out As Soon As We Can Find A Buyer, With Unfortunate

Results If Your Valuation's Right; But The Second Looks More Promising.

With Immigrants Pouring Into The Country, Land's Bound To Go Up, And We

Ought To Get A Largely Increased Price By Holding On A While.  To Do

That, I Understand, The Land Should Be Worked."

"Yes.  It Could, No Doubt, Be Improved; Which Would Materially Add To

Its Value."

"I See One Difficulty: The Cost Of Superintendence Might Eat Up Most Of

The Profit.  Wages Are High On The Prairie, Are They Not?"

George Assented, And Herbert Continued:

"Then A Good Deal Would Depend On The Man In Charge.  Apart From The

Question Of His Honesty, He Would Have To Take A Thorough Interest In

The Farm."

"He Would Have To Think Of Nothing Else, And Be Willing To Work From

Sunrise Until Dark," Said George.  "Successful Farming Means Determined

Effort In Western Canada."

"Could You Put Your Hands Upon A Suitable Person?"

"I'm Very Doubtful.  You Don't Often Meet With A Man Of The Kind We

Need In Search Of An Engagement At A Strictly Moderate Salary."

"Then It Looks As If We Must Sell Out Now For Enough To Provide Sylvia

With A Pittance."

"That," George Said Firmly, "Is Not To Be Thought Of!"

There Was A Short Silence While He Pondered, For His Legacy Had Not

Proved An Unmixed Blessing.  At First He Had Found Idleness Irksome,

But By Degrees He Had Grown Accustomed To It.  Though He Was Still

Troubled Now And Then By An Idea That He Was Wasting His Time And

Making A Poor Use Of Such Abilities As He Possessed, It Was Pleasant To

Feel That, Within Certain Limits, He Could Do Exactly As He Wished.

Life In Western Canada Was Strenuous And Somewhat Primitive; He Was

Conscious Of A Strong Reluctance To Resume It; But He Could Not Bear To

Have Sylvia, Who Had Luxurious Tastes, Left Almost Penniless.  There

Was A Way In Which He Could Serve Her, And He Determined To Take It.

George Was Steadfast In His Devotion, And Did Not Shrink From A

Sacrifice.

"It Strikes Me There's Only One Suitable Plan," He Said.  "I Know

Something About Western Farming.  I Wouldn't Need A Salary; And Sylvia

Could Trust Me To Look After Her Interests.  I'd Better Go Out And Take

Charge Until Things Are Straightened Up, Or We Come Across Somebody Fit

For The Post."

Herbert Heard Him With Satisfaction.  He Had Desired To Lead George Up

To This Decision, And He Suspected That Sylvia Had Made Similar

Efforts.  It Was Not Difficult To Instil An Idea Into His Cousin's Mind.

"Well," He Said Thoughtfully, "The Suggestion Seems A Good One; Though

It's Rather Hard On You, If You Really Mean To Go."

"That's Decided," Was The Brief Answer.

"Then, Though We Can Discuss Details Later, You Had Better Give Me

Legal Authority To Look After Your Affairs While You Are Away.  There

Are Those Kaffir Shares, For Instance; It Might Be Well To Part With

Them If, They Go Up A Point Or Two."

"I've Wondered Why You Recommended Me To Buy Them," George Said Bluntly.

Herbert Avoided A Direct Answer.  He Now And Then Advised George, Who

Knew Little About Business, In The Management Of His Property, But His

Advice Was Not Always Disinterested Or Intended Only For His Cousin's

Benefit.

"Oh," He Replied, "The Cleverest Operators Now And Then Make Mistakes,

And I Don't Claim Exceptional Powers Of Precision.  It's Remarkably

Difficult To Forecast The Tendency Of The Stock-Market."

George Nodded, As If Satisfied.

"I'll Arrange Things Before I Sail, And I'd Better Get Off As Soon As

Possible.  Now, Suppose We Go Down And Join The Others."

On The Afternoon Following His Arrival, George Stood Thoughtfully

Looking About On His Cousin's Lawn.  Creepers Flecked The Mellow Brick

Front Of The Old House With Sprays Of Tender Leaves; Purple Clematis

Hung From A Trellis; And Lichens Tinted The Low Terrace Wall With

Subdued Coloring.  The Grass Was Flanked By Tall Beeches, Rising In

Masses Of Bright Verdure Against A Sky Of Clearest Blue; And Beyond It,

Across The Sparkling River, Smooth Meadows Ran Back To The Foot Of The

Hills.  It Was, In Spite Of The Bright Sunshine, All So Fresh And Cool:

A Picture That Could Be Enjoyed Only In Rural England.

George Was Sensible Of The Appeal It Made To Him; Now, When He Must

Shortly Change Such Scenes For The Wide Levels Of Western Canada, Which

Are Covered During Most Of The Year With Harsh, Gray Grass, Alternately

Withered By Frost And Sun, He Felt Their Charm.  It Was One Thing To

Run Across To Norway On A Fishing Or Mountaineering Trip And Come Back

When He Wished, But Quite Another To Settle Down On The Prairie Where

He Must Remain Until His Work Should Be Done.  Moreover, For Mrs.

Lansing Had Many Friends, The Figures Scattered About The Lawn--Young

Men And Women In Light Summer Attire--Enhanced The Attractiveness Of

The Surroundings.  They Were Nice People, With Pleasant English Ways;

And George Contrasted Them With The Rather Grim, Aggressive Plainsmen

Among Whom He Would Presently Have To Live: Men Who Toiled In The Heat,

Half Naked, And Who Would Sit Down To Meals With Him In Dusty, Unwashed

Clothes.  He Was Not A Sybarite, But He Preferred The Society Of Mrs.

Lansing's Guests.

After A While She Beckoned Him, And They Leaned Upon The Terrace Wall

Side By Side.  She Was A Good-Natured, Simple Woman, With Strongly

Domestic Habits And Conventional Views.

"I'm Glad Herbert Has Got Away From Business For A Few Days," She

Began.  "He Works Too Hard, And It's Telling On Him.  How Do You Think

He Is Looking?"

George Knew She Was Addicted To Displaying A Needless Anxiety About Her

Husband's Health.  It Had Struck Him That Herbert Was Getting Stouter;

But He Now Remembered Having Noticed A Hint Of Care In His Face.

"The Rest Will Do Him Good," He Said.

Mrs. Lansing's Conversation Was Often Disconnected, And She Now Changed

The Subject.

"Herbert Tells Me You Are Going To Canada.  As You're Fond Of The Open

Air, You Will Enjoy It."

"I Suppose So," George Assented Rather Dubiously.

"Of Course, It's Very Generous, And Sylvia's Fortunate In Having You To

Look After Things"--Mrs. Lansing Paused Before Adding--"But Are You

Altogether Wise In Going, George?"

Lansing Knew That His Hostess Loved Romance, And Sometimes Attempted To

Assist In One, But He Would Have Preferred Another Topic.

"I Don't See What Else I Could Do," He Said.

"That's Hardly An Answer.  You Will Forgive Me For Speaking Plainly,

But What I