The Girl from Keller's Part 13

Helen did not answer and picked up a book, but she thought more about Festing than about what she read.

CHAPTER IX

FESTING LOSES HIS TEMPER

Next morning Festing got breakfast early and set off down the dale. This was not the way Muriel had indicated, but he thought it better to avoid temptation. The girls had received him graciously at the farm and had perhaps listened with unusual patience, but if he overtook them in the morning the thing might look too marked. Besides, he doubted if it was advisable that Helen should see him again so soon, since he might remind her of matters she wished to forget.

The self-denial cost him something, and he went down the dale irresolutely, stopping once or twice to look back. It was annoying to feel himself so weak, because he had seldom vacillated in Canada, but had chosen the proper line and then stuck to it. As a matter of fact, he had generally had a definite object and definite plans for its attainment. Although he had an object now, he was otherwise at a loss.

He meant to marry Helen. Life was strenuous on the plains, and at first there might be hards.h.i.+ps, but if she loved him she would not flinch. Her portrait had not done her justice; he dwelt upon her fearless confidence as she came down the screes, her light, sure step, and agile pose. These things indicated strength of mind and body, and he knew, if the need came, she would make good use of both.

By and by he thought of Charnock with keener anger than he had yet felt.

Bob was a weak fool and something worse. He had broken the promise and then tricked his friend. The fellow's character was warped; he could not go straight, but tried to escape the consequences of his folly in a maze of crooked ways. The worst was that consequences could not be s.h.i.+rked.

If the real offender avoided them, they fell upon somebody else, and now Festing had to pay. Bob had prejudiced him with Helen. She would probably never quite forget that he knew what she had suffered.

Then he remembered that he had meant to spend a week or two in London, and made his way towards a valley through which a railway ran. Although he wanted to see Helen, he was half afraid, and imagined that the longer he waited the less risk he would run of his society jarring. Next day he left the hills, but did not greatly enjoy his visit to town. London was much like Montreal, where the buildings were as fine, only they did not dig up so many streets and fill the air with cement from the towering blocks of new offices. The English liked permanence, while the Canadians altered their cities from day to day. Besides he wanted to go back to the North as soon as it was prudent.

On the evening of his return it rained hard and he talked to Muriel in her drawing-room. He liked Muriel Gardiner and she frankly enjoyed his society. It did not matter that she sometimes seemed to find him amusing when he was serious. A fire burned in the grate, for the summer evening was cold, his low chair was comfortable, and Muriel, holding a fan to s.h.i.+eld her face, sat opposite in the soft light of a shaded lamp that left much of the room in shadow. The circle of subdued illumination gave one a pleasant feeling of seclusion and made for mutual confidence, but Festing was silent for a time, thinking rather hard.

He was getting used to English comforts, which did not seem so enervating as he had imagined, but he could give them up, and would, indeed, be forced to do so when he occupied his prairie homestead. A man could go without much that people in England required, and be the better for the self-denial, but it might be different for a girl. Long habit might make comfort and artistic surroundings actual necessities. It was, however, encouraging to remember Helen's cheerfulness as she led him among the crags in the rain. She had pluck and could bear fatigue and hards.h.i.+p. Besides, there need not be much hards.h.i.+p after all.

Presently Muriel gave him a careless glance. "Helen told me she met you in the hills and you came over to the hall where she and Alison Jardine stopped. Now you have had an opportunity of correcting your first impression, what do you think of her?"

"What I have always thought," Festing replied.

Muriel looked at him with surprise, and then laughed. "Oh, yes; I remember you saw her portrait first. Well, you have more imagination than I thought. But I understand you didn't see Helen again, although she and Alison went over part of the route I marked out for you."

Festing thought her manner was too careless, and felt suspicious, but he said: "I changed my plans. I thought it might look significant if I overtook the girls. One doesn't expect an accident to happen twice."

"Perhaps you did the proper thing. But did you want to overtake them?"

"I did," said Festing quietly. "Still I felt I'd better not."

Muriel was silent for a few moments, and then remarked: "Self-denial such as you practised deserves a reward, and I met Mrs. Dalton while you were away. She asked me to bring you over when you came back. I suppose you know what she wants?"

"Yes," said Festing, who looked disturbed. "Do you?"

"Mrs. Dalton told me. You helped George when he needed help, although he had no particular claim."

"He was ill and unfit for hard work."

"Was that the only difficulty?"

"I don't see what you mean," said Festing, with some embarra.s.sment.

"Then I'll be frank. In what kind of company did you find the lad? You see, I know something about him."

"If you insist, he'd got into bad hands."

"That was what I suspected, and I think Mrs. Dalton knows. George was not very steady when he was at home and got into some trouble before he left the office of a civil engineer. In fact, this was why he went to Canada."

"But I don't see what it has to do with me."

"I wonder whether you are as dull as you pretend. George is Mrs.

Dalton's only son; although he had faults she and Helen are very fond of him. Now it would have been something if you had merely helped him out of a difficulty, but you did much more. You gave him his chance of making up for past follies. He has been steady ever since, and I understand is now getting on very well. It looks as if you had used some moral influence."

"I didn't try," said Festing dryly, "I gave him his job and told him I'd have him fired if he s.h.i.+rked."

"You didn't consciously try, but it's possible to influence people without knowing. However, as Mrs. Dalton has too much tact to overwhelm you by her grat.i.tude, you needn't be afraid of going to the Scar with me, although you seem to hesitate about meeting Helen."

Festing, who pondered for a few moments, felt that the girl was studying him. She had shown a rather embarra.s.sing curiosity, but he though she meant to be his friend.

"Did you know Miss Dalton was in the mountains when you planned my walking tour?" he asked.

"I did know," said Muriel with a direct glance. "Perhaps I was rash, but if so, I'm not afraid to own my fault. I suppose you understand why I sent you where I did?"

"In one way, your object's plain. For all that, I'm puzzled."

Muriel smiled. "As Helen is my friend, you ought to be flattered.

Doesn't it look as if I was satisfied with you?"

"We'll let that go. You took something for granted. I suppose you see you might have been mistaken about my feelings?"

"Then no harm would have been done," Muriel rejoined, and putting down her fan, gave him a steady look. "Was I mistaken?"

"You were not," said Festing quietly. "I mean to marry Miss Dalton if she is willing. I'm anxious to know what chance I've got."

"I can't tell you that. Perhaps I have gone far enough; but George's reformation is a good certificate of your character, and Helen and her mother owe you a debt of grat.i.tude."

Festing colored rather angrily. "My helping the lad was, so to speak, an accident; I don't want to be judged by this, and won't urge the debt.

Miss Dalton must take me on my merits."

"You have pluck; it's a bold claim," said Muriel in a dry tone, and then got up as Gardiner and the curate came in.

Next day Festing went to the Scar, and when Mrs. Dalton received him she put her hand gently on his arm. She said enough, but not too much, and he was moved as he saw the moisture glisten in her eyes.

"I don't deserve this," he answered awkwardly. "I found the lad in some trouble, but hadn't to make much effort to help him out. In fact, it was the kind of thing one does without thinking and forgets."

"Ah," said Mrs. Dalton, "the consequences of one's deeds follow one, whether they're good or bad." Then she gave him a very friendly smile.

"But perhaps we had better join the rest outside."

Festing found Helen in the garden with her aunt and some friends, but the others left them by and by, and they walked alone among the flowers.

The day was calm, the light clear, and the shadow of the dark beeches on the hill crept slowly across the lawn. Beyond a low hedge, woods, smooth pastures, and fields of ripening corn rolled back and melted into the blue shadow beneath the rugged fells. It seemed to Festing that the peaceful sylvan landscape was touched by a glamour that centered in the fresh beauty of the girl. Sometimes they were silent, and sometimes they talked about the mountains, but when they went back to the house he thought they had got nearer.

He returned to the Scar without Muriel a week later, and went again, and one evening stood with Helen on the terrace. Gentle rain had fallen for most of the day, but it had stopped, and a band of pale-saffron glimmered under heavy clouds in the West. Moisture dripped from the motionless branches and the air was hot. The lamps had just been lighted in the house and a yellow glow streamed out.

"I've stayed longer than I meant and forgot my lamp," Festing remarked.