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

All The Information In My Hands; You Could Inspect Accounts In The

London Office; I Suppose You Read The Financial Papers.  It Would Have

Been Presumptuous If I'd Recommended You To Sell, And My Forecast Might

Have Proved Incorrect.  In That Case You Would Have Blamed Me For

Losing Your Money."

This Was Incontestable.  Though They Knew He Had Betrayed Them,

Lansing's Position Was Too Strong To Be Assailed.

"You Might Have Mentioned That You Contemplated Retiring From The

Board," One Remarked.  "Then We Would Have Known What To Expect."

"A Little Reflection Will Show The Futility Of Your Suggestion.  How

Could I Contemplate Being Run Over By A Motor-Car?"

"Well," Said The Second Man In A Grim Tone, "You Can't Deny The

Accident Was In Some Respects A Fortunate One For You."

"I'm Doubtful Whether You Would Have Appreciated It, In My Place.  But

You Don't Seem To Realize That I'm Withdrawing From The Board Because

I'm Incapacitated For The Duties."

Then The Nurse, To Whom Herbert Had Given A Hint, Came In; And He Made

A Sign Of Resignation, Quite As Though Overpowered By Regret.

"I'm Sorry I'm Not Allowed To Talk Very Much Yet.  Will You Have A

Cigar And Some Refreshment Before You Leave?"

His Visitors Rose, And One Of Them Turned To Him With A Curious

Expression.

"No, Thanks," He Said Pointedly.  "Considering Everything, I Don't

Think We'll Give You The Trouble."

With A Few Conventional Words They Withdrew, And Herbert Smiled At The

Nurse.

"I Believe Dr. Ballin Was Most Concerned About The Injury To My

Nerves," He Said.  "Have You Noticed Anything Wrong With Them?"

"Not Lately.  They Seem To Be In A Normal State."

"That," Said Herbert, "Is My Own Opinion.  You Wouldn't Imagine That I

Had Just Finished A Rather Trying Interview?"

"No; You Look More Amused Than Upset."

"There Was Something Humorous In The Situation; That's Often The Case

When You See Greedy People Wasting Effort And Ingenuity.  Perhaps You

Heard My Visitors Expressing Their Anxiety About My Health, Though I've

A Suspicion That They Felt More Like Wishing The Car Had Made An End Of

Me."

The Nurse Laughed And Told Him That He Had Better Rest; And Herbert Lay

Back Upon The Cushions She Arranged, With Calm Content.

During The Evening, Sylvia Entered The Room, Dressed A Little More

Carefully Than Usual, And Herbert Glanced At Her With Appreciation.

"You Look Charming, Though That's Your Normal State," He Said.  "Where

Are You Going?"

"With Muriel, To Dine With The Wests; Have You Forgotten?  But I Came

In Because Muriel Told Me You Had A Letter From George By The Last

Post."

"So You're Still Interested In His Doings," Herbert Rejoined.

"Of Course.  Does That Surprise You?"

"I Was Beginning To Think There Was Some Risk Of Your Forgetting Him,

Which, Perhaps, Wouldn't Be Altogether Unnatural.  He's A Long Way Off,

Which Has Often Its Effect, And There's No Denying The Fact That In

Many Respects You And He Are Different."

"Doesn't The Same Thing Apply To You And Muriel?  Everybody Knows You

Get On Excellently In Spite Of It."

Herbert Laughed.  He Was Aware That His Friends Had Wondered Why He Had

Married Muriel, And Suspected That Some Of Them Believed Her Money Had

Tempted Him.  Nevertheless, He Made Her An Affectionate As Well As A

Considerate Husband.  In Business Matters He Practised The Easy

Morality Of A Hungry Beast Of Prey, But He Had His Virtues.

"Yes," He Said, "That's True.  Do You Find It Encouraging?"

Sylvia Had Felt A Little Angry, Though She Had Known That It Was Seldom

Wise To Provoke Her Host.

Without Waiting For Her Answer He Continued, Half Seriously: "There's

Often One Person Who Thinks Better Of Us Than We Deserve, And I Dare

Say I'm Fortunate In That Respect.  In Such A Case, One Feels It An

Obligation Not To Abuse That Person's Confidence."

A Slight Flush Crept Into Sylvia's Face.  George Believed In Her And

She Was Very Shabbily Rewarding His Trust.

"I'm Surprised To Hear You Moralizing.  It's Not A Habit Of Yours," She

Remarked.

"No," Said Herbert, Pointedly; "Though It May Now And Then Make One

Feel A Little Uncomfortable, It Seldom Does Much Good.  But We Were

Talking About George.  He Tells Me That Winter's Beginning Unusually

Soon; They've Had What He Calls A Severe Cold Snap And The Prairie's

Deep With Snow.  He Bought Some More Stock And Young Horses As An

Offset To The Bad Harvest, And He's Doubtful Whether He Has Put Up Hay

Enough.  West And He Are Busy Hauling Stove-Wood Home From A Bluff; And

He Has Had A Little Trouble With Some Shady Characters As A Result Of

His Taking Part In A Temperance Campaign.  I Think That's All He Has To

Say."

Sylvia Broke Into Half-Incredulous Merriment.

"It's Hard To Imagine George As A Temperance Reformer.  Think Of Him,

Making Speeches!"

"Speeches Aren't Much In George's Line," Herbert Admitted.  "Still, In

One Way, I Wasn't Greatly Astonished At The News.  He's Just The Man To

Be Drawn Into Difficulties He Might Avoid, Provided That Somebody Could

Convince Him The Thing Needed Doing."

"Then You Think He Has Been Convinced?"

"I Can Hardly Imagine George's Setting Out On A Work Of The Kind He

Mentioned Without Some Persuasion," Said Herbert With A Smile.  "The

Subject's Not One He Ever Took Much Interest In, And He's By No Means

Original."

Sylvia Agreed With Him, But She Was Silent A Few Moments, Reclining In

An Easy Chair Before The Cheerful Fire, While She Glanced Round The

Room.  It Was Comfortably Furnished, Warm, And Brightly Lighted; A

Strong Contrast To The Lonely Canadian Homestead To Which Her Thoughts

Wandered.  She Could Recall The Unpolished Stove, Filling The Place

With Its Curious, Unpleasant Smell, And The Icy Draughts That Eddied

About It.  She Could Imagine The Swish Of Driving Snow About The

Quivering Wooden Building When The Dreaded Blizzards Raged; The

Strange, Oppressive Silence When The Prairie Lay Still In The Grip Of

The Arctic Frost; And George Coming In With Half-Frozen Limbs And

Snow-Dust On His Furs, To Spend The Dreary Evening In Trying To Keep

Warm.  The Picture Her Memory Painted Was Vivid And It Had A Disturbing

Effect.  It Was In Her Service That The Man Was Toiling In Western

Canada.

"Well," She Said, Rising With Some Abruptness, "It's Time We Got Off.

I'd Better See If Muriel Is Ready."

Sylvia Was Sitting By The Hearth In Ethel West's Drawing-Room, Her

Neatly Shod Feet On The Fender, Her Low Chair On The Fleecy Rug, And

She Made A Very Dainty And Attractive Picture.  She Felt The Cold And

Hated Discomfort Of Any Kind, Though It Was Characteristic Of Her That

She Generally Succeeded In Avoiding It.  Ethel Sat Near By, Watching

Her With Calmly Curious Eyes, For Sylvia Was Looking Pensive.  Mrs.

Lansing Was Talking To Stephen West On The Opposite Side Of The Large

Room.

"How Is Edgar Getting On?" Sylvia Asked.  "I Suppose You Hear From Him

Now And Then."

Ethel Guessed Where The Question Led And Responded With Blunt

Directness.

"Doesn't George Write To You?"

"Not Often.  Herbert Has Just Got A Letter, But There Was Very Little

Information In It; George Is Not A Brilliant Correspondent.  I Thought

Edgar Might Have Written By The Same Mail."

"As It Happens, He Did," Said Ethel.  "He Describes The Cold As Fierce,

And Gives Some Interesting Details Of His Sensations When The Warmth

First Comes Back To His Half-Frozen Hands Or Limbs; Then He Adds A

Vivid Account Of A Blizzard That George And He Nearly Got Lost In."

"Things Of That Kind Make An Impression On A New-Comer," Sylvia

Languidly Remarked.  "One Gets Used To Them After A While.  Did He Say

Anything Else?"

"There Was An Enthusiastic Description Of A Girl He Has Met; He

Declares She's A Paragon.  This, Of Course, Is Nothing New, But It's A

Little Astonishing That He Doesn't Seem To Contemplate Making Love To

Her In His Usual Haphazard Manner.  She Seems To Have Inspired Him With

Genuine Respect."

"I Can't Think Of Any Girl Who's Likely To Do So."

"He Gives Her Name--Flora Grant."

Sylvia Betrayed Some Interest.

"I Knew Her--I Suppose She Is A Little Less Impossible Than The Rest.

But Go On."

"One Gathers That George Is Having An Anxious Time; Edgar Goes Into

Some Obscure Details About Crops And Cattle-Raising.  Then He Hints At

Some Exciting Adventures They Have Had As A Result Of Supporting A Body

That's Trying To Close The Hotels."

This Was What Sylvia Had Been Leading Up To.  She Agreed With Herbert

That It Was Most Unlikely George Would Take Any Part In Such

Proceedings Without Some Prompting, And She Was Curious To Learn Who

Had Influenced Him.

"There Was A Word Or Two In Herbert's Letter To The Same Effect," She

Said.  "The Thing Strikes One As Amusing.  George, Of Course, Does Not

Explain Why He Joined These People."

A Smile Of Rather Malicious Satisfaction Crept Into Ethel's Eyes.

"According To Edgar, It Was Because His Neighbors, The Grants, Urged