Partners of the Out-Trail Part 48

"I don't know," said Mordaunt, coolly. "You are going to marry Jim."

Evelyn colored, because she knew what he meant. For the most part, the objections that could be urged against Carrie applied to Jim.

"I don't know if I'm going to marry Jim or not," she said.

Mordaunt looked hard at her and his eyes sparkled. "Ah," he said, "I imagined something like this would happen; in fact, I have waited for it. It was plain that Jim would pall. He has his virtues, but he is not the man for you."

"He has many virtues; he's big and strong and honest. It would be easier if he had some of our shabby faults. Jim's code is as rude as himself, but it's stern and he lives up to it. I don't know if I can."

"I know," said Mordaunt, smiling; "you could not! Jim is something of a savage, but all the same, he belongs to the old school and his rudeness is austere. We are modern and live on another plane. But how did you come to see the truth I've seen all along?"

"Jim showed me," Evelyn replied with some feeling. "Unconsciously, of course. He was here last evening and talked about his plans. They are good plans. Had I been different, I might have helped, but they left me out. I don't like to be left out. Am I the girl to satisfy a man who lives to farm and dig marsh drains? You know me, Lance."

"The thing is ridiculous," Mordaunt declared, and was silent for a moment or two. He did know Evelyn, and her frankness meant much. It was plain that she meant to break with Jim but felt she needed help.

"What are you going to do about it?" he asked.

"I don't know," she said drearily. "I can't go on."

Mordaunt made a sign of sympathetic agreement. "You cannot; but there is a way out. I think you see the way. Durst I hope you'll take it with me?"

Evelyn said nothing and turned her head, and he went on: "I'm not utilitarian, and my rule is yours. We understand each other. My talents will be used to amuse you and not to dig drains." He got up and stood by her chair. "You have pluck, Evelyn. Tell Jim you have found you cheated yourself and let him go."

"I haven't much pluck," she said, quietly. "Jim rather carried me away. He stood for romance, struggle, and adventure; things I haven't known. He's a man, a plain, hot-blooded fighting man, and I was tired of conventional languidness. But I began to doubt and see I wasn't strong enough to live his life. I had wrapped myself up in flimsy artificialities until they got needful and I couldn't break loose."

She paused and looked up. "Well, you are my kind, Lance, and if you want me, I am willing. I'll tell Jim, but I shrink. He may not understand, and it will hurt us both."

Mordaunt thought for a moment. It might be better if Evelyn did not tell Jim, and he was afraid d.i.c.k would meddle. He took and kissed her hand.

"My dear!" he said. "But you must not get hurt, and I have a plan.

Hasn't Florence urged you to stop with her in town? Well, suppose you go and I join you there? We can be married by license and go to France or Italy. Before we come back Jim's disappointment will have cooled and our friends have got over their surprise."

Evelyn saw the plan had advantages. It would obviate the need for awkward apologies, and when she and Lance came back it would be too late for people to disapprove. She agreed and submitted without emotion when Mordaunt put his arm round her, but in spite of some regrets she was firm. Romance had been a treacherous guide; she had found this out and was logical again. When Mordaunt went away all had been arranged, and when she sat down to write to Florence in London her hand was steady and composition easy. After the note was written she hesitated for a moment, and then resolutely fastened the envelope.

A few days after Evelyn went to town, d.i.c.k, coming back from shooting one afternoon, met Tom Shanks on the marsh. When he saw the fellow his anger flared up, for he had felt his responsibility and wondered with keen disturbance what he ought to do. Although Lance was on the sands the night Carrie was nearly drowned and knew much about the matter, d.i.c.k had grounds for believing Shanks moved the punt. He had meant to be cautious and wait until he saw his way, but something in the fellow's furtive, sullen look, banished his control.

He stopped Shanks and found it a relief to let himself go. The other was cool and hinted darkly that d.i.c.k had better leave things alone. He said d.i.c.k had nothing to go upon; he had not seen Shanks near the punt, and if he went to the police about it, might get somebody else into trouble. Shanks knew what he knew, and if he were forced would tell.

d.i.c.k then used tact, scoffing at the other's hints until Shanks abandoned some of his reserve, and when the stormy interview was over d.i.c.k went home moodily. The plan he had made of the marks by the punt was accurate, but the line he ought to take not yet plain. Lance was his relation.

In the evening he drove Mrs. Halliday to Dryholm, where Jim and his friends had been asked to dine. They had not arrived, and while Bernard talked to Mrs. Halliday, d.i.c.k went to the library to look at a book about sport. When he opened the door Mordaunt was writing and there was a letter, to which he seemed to be replying, on the table.

He nodded and went on writing, and d.i.c.k was glad he did not want to talk. After a few minutes a car rolled up the drive and when Mordaunt fastened the envelope they heard Jim's party in the hall.

Mordaunt went down stairs and d.i.c.k, coming after, saw an envelope on the floor. Imagining Mordaunt had dropped it, he picked it up and frowned as he recognized Evelyn's hand. Mordaunt was talking to Mrs.

Winter and d.i.c.k did not want to disturb them; besides, he would sooner give Lance the letter when they were alone. Then Bernard beckoned him and before long dinner was served.

d.i.c.k did not enjoy the meal. He could hardly rouse himself to talk to Carrie and when she turned to Mordaunt, the latter's careless smile as he began to joke moved him to almost uncontrollable rage. d.i.c.k was in a black mood, for the secret he carried had worn his nerves, and he did not like Evelyn's writing to Lance. He was resolved that his sister should have nothing to do with the fellow. When dinner was over he said to Mordaunt, "I'd like to see the gun you bought."

"Very well," said Mordaunt and they went to the gun-room.

The room was small. A gla.s.s case, holding guns and fis.h.i.+ng rods, ran along one wall; a bench occupied the other. There was a plain table, stained by oil, and a fire burned in a stove with an open front, for the night was damp. A flickering glow played about the walls and shone on the greasy guns. d.i.c.k stopped Mordaunt, who put his hand on the electric-light switch.

"Never mind the light," he said, throwing a letter on the table. "You dropped this."

"I did," said Mordaunt, turning to d.i.c.k, who leaned against the table.

"Imagined I'd put it in my pocket. Thank you for picking it up."

d.i.c.k thought it significant that he had not opened the case to get the new gun. Lance's voice was calm but his glance was quick. He seemed to be waiting.

"What was Evelyn writing to you about?" d.i.c.k asked.

The light from the stove touched Mordaunt's face, which hardened.

"Then, you have not read the letter?"

"You know I have not," d.i.c.k rejoined, for his control gave way at the other's taunt. Lance wanted to make him angry and find out how much he knew. Well, he should find out and d.i.c.k thought he would get a jar.

"Anyhow, you must stop writing to Evelyn," he resumed. "I'd sooner you kept away from Whitelees when she comes home."

"You bore with my visits not long since. Are you afraid to state why you want them to stop?"

"Not at all," said d.i.c.k, seeing the other meant to force him to be frank; he knew Lance had pluck. "You are a clever philanderer, but Evelyn's going to marry Jim."

Mordaunt smiled, imprudently, since his smile infuriated d.i.c.k.

"Looks as if you wanted to quarrel! I imagine I shall not write to Evelyn again for some time. This ought to satisfy you. Perhaps I'm dull, but I don't know why our friends.h.i.+p should break off."

"You well know!" d.i.c.k exclaimed. "You meant to let Jim drown not long since!"

"You're a theatrical fool," Mordaunt remarked, coolly, although his voice was rather hoa.r.s.e. "Anyhow, I think you're sober and you have made a statement that must be justified."

"I'm willing to justify it, if you force me," d.i.c.k declared. "But I'd sooner you admitted the thing and left the neighborhood, without an awkward explanation. If you go at once and don't come back, it's perhaps not needful the others should know why you went. You can live in town; I don't care where you live, so long as you don't see Evelyn again."

He stopped and his face got very red, for the door opened and Mrs.

Halliday and Bernard came in.

"I imagined we would find you here, but it looks as if you were quarreling," Bernard remarked.

"We were quarreling," d.i.c.k admitted with strange calm, for he was relieved that a chance to get rid of his load had come. It was his duty to tell Jim and Bernard and he had been afraid. Now he could leave matters to the head of the house.

"You are hot-blooded, d.i.c.k, but I don't imagine you would get angry about nothing. May I inquire the grounds for the dispute?"

"I'll tell you if you will send for Jim. The thing touches him."

Bernard pressed an electric bell and Mordaunt said: "You will be very sorry for this, d.i.c.k."

The bell rang and when a servant came Bernard said, "Tell Mr. Dearham we would like to see him here."

CHAPTER XVII