Ranching For Sylvia Volume-554, Harold Bindloss [ink book reader .txt] 📗

Volume 554 Chapter 2 (His Friends' Opinion) Pg 14

"With The Plow And The Land-Packer," George Broke In.  "He'll Have The

Satisfaction Of Driving Them Twelve Hours A Day.  It Happens To Be The

Most Effective Way Of Doing The Things He Mentions."

 

Edgar's Laughter Followed Him As He Left The Group.

 

After Dinner That Evening Herbert Invited George Into The Library.

 

"Parker Has Come Over About My Lease, And His Visit Will Save You A

Journey," He Explained.  "We May As Well Get Things Settled Now While

He's Here."

 

George Went With Him To The Library, Where The Lawyer Sat At A

Writing-Table.  He Waited In Silence While Herbert Gave The Lawyer A

Few Instructions.  A Faint Draught Flowed In Through An Open Window,

And Gently Stirred The Litter Of Papers; A Shaded Lamp Stood On The

Table, And Its Light Revealed The Faces Of The Two Men Near It With

Sharp Distinctness, Though Outside The Circle Of Brightness The Big

Room Was Almost Dark.

 

It Struck George That His Cousin Looked Eager, As If He Were Impatient

To Get The Work Finished; But He Reflected That This Was Most Likely

Because Herbert Wished To Discuss The Matter Of The Lease.  Then He

Remembered With A Little Irritation What Ethel Said During The

Afternoon.  It Was Not Very Lucid, But He Had An Idea That She Meant To

Warn Him; And Edgar Had Gone Some Length In Urging That He Should Leave

The Care Of His Property To Another Man.  This Was Curious, But Hardly

To Be Taken Into Consideration, Herbert Was Capable And Exact In His

Dealings; And Yet For A Moment Or Two George Was Troubled By A Faint

Doubt.  It Appeared Irrational, And He Drove It Out Of His Mind When

Herbert Spoke.

 

"The Deed's Ready; You Have Only To Sign," He Said, Indicating A Paper.

Then He Added, With A Smile: "You Quite Realize The Importance Of What

You Are Doing?"

 

The Lawyer Turned To George.

 

"This Document Gives Mr. Lansing Full Authority To Dispose Of Your

Possessions As He Thinks Fit.  In Accordance With It, His Signature

Will Be Honored As If It Were Yours."

 

Parker's Expression Was Severely Formal, And His Tone Businesslike; But

He Had Known George For A Long While, And Had Served His Father.

Again, For A Moment, George Had An Uneasy Feeling That He Was Being

Warned; But He Had Confidence In His Friends, And His Cousin Was

Eminently Reliable.

 

"I Know That," He Answered.  "I've Left Matters In Herbert's Hands On

Other Occasions, With Fortunate Results.  Will You Give Me A Pen?"

 

The Lawyer Watched Him Sign With An Inscrutable Face, But When He Laid

Down The Pen, Herbert Drew Back Out Of The Strong Light.  He Was

Folding The Paper With A Sense Of Satisfaction And Relief.

Volume 554 Chapter 3 (A Matter Of Duty) Pg 15

On The Evening Before George's Departure, Sylvia Stood With Him At The

Entrance To The Brantholme Drive.  He Leaned Upon The Gate, A

Broad-Shouldered, Motionless Figure; His Eyes Fixed Moodily Upon The

Prospect, Because He Was Afraid To Let Them Dwell Upon His Companion.

In Front, Across The Dim White Road, A Cornfield Ran Down To The River,

And On One Side Of It A Wood Towered In A Shadowy Mass Against A Soft

Green Streak Of Light.  Near Its Foot The Water Gleamed Palely Among

Overhanging Alders, And In The Distance The Hills Faded Into The

Grayness Of The Eastern Sky.  Except For The Low Murmur Of The Stream,

It Was Very Still; And The Air Was Heavy With The Smell Of Dew-Damped

Soil.

 

All This Had Its Effect On George.  He Loved The Quiet English Country;

And Now, When He Must Leave It, It Strongly Called To Him.  He Had

Congenial Friends, And Occupations In Which He Took Pleasure--Sport,

Experiments In Farming, And Stock-Raising.  It Would Be Hard To Drop

Them; But That, After All, Was A Minor Trouble.  He Would Be Separated

From Sylvia Until His Work Should Be Done.

 

"What A Beautiful Night!" She Said At Length.  Summoning His

Resolution, He Turned And Looked At Her.  She Stood With One Hand

Resting On The Gate, Slender, Graceful, And Wonderfully Attractive, The

Black Dress Emphasizing The Pure Whiteness Of Her Face And Hands.

Sylvia Was An Artist Where Dress Was Concerned, And She Had Made The

Most Of Her Somber Garb.  As He Looked At Her A Strong Temptation Shook

The Man.  He Might Still Discover Some Excuse For Remaining To Watch

Over Sylvia, And Seize Each Opportunity For Gaining Her Esteem.  Then

He Remembered That This Would Entail The Sacrifice Of Her Property; And

A Faint Distrust Of Her, Which He Had Hitherto Refused To Admit, Seized

Him.  Sylvia, Threatened By Poverty, Might Yield Without Affection To

The Opportunities Of A Suitor Who Would Bid High Enough For Her Hand;

And He Would Not Have Such A Course Forced Upon Her, Even If He Were

The One To Profit.

 

"You're Very Quiet; You Must Feel Going Away," She Said.

 

"Yes," George Admitted; "I Feel It A Good Deal."

 

"Ah!  I Don't Know Anybody Else Who Would Have Gone--I Feel Selfish And

Shabby In Letting You."

 

"I Don't Think You Could Stop Me."

 

"I Haven't Tried.  I Suppose I'm A Coward, But Until You Promised To

Look After Matters, I Was Afraid Of The Future.  I Have Friends, But

The Tinge Of Contempt Which Would Creep Into Their Pity Would Be Hard

Volume 554 Chapter 3 (A Matter Of Duty) Pg 16

To Bear.  It's Hateful To Feel That You Are Being Put Up With.

Sometimes I Thought I'd Go Back To Canada."

 

"I've Wondered How You Stood It As Long As You Did," George Said

Incautiously.

 

"Aren't You Forgetting?  I Had Dick With Me Then."  Sylvia Paused And

Shuddered.  "It Would Be So Different Now."

 

George Felt Reproved And Very Compassionate.

 

"Yes," He Said, "I'm Afraid I Forgot; But The Whole Thing Seems Unreal.

It's Almost Impossible To Imagine Your Living On A Farm In Western

Canada."

 

"I Dare Say It's Difficult.  I'll Confess I'm Fond Of Ease And Comfort

And Refinement.  I Like To Be Looked After And Waited On; To Have

Somebody To Keep Unpleasant Things Away.  That's Dreadfully Weak, Isn't

It?  And Because I Haven't More Courage, I'm Sending You Back To The

Prairie."

 

"I'm Quite Ready To Go."

 

"Oh, I'm Sure Of That!  It's Comforting To Remember That You're So

Resolute And Matter-Of-Fact.  You Wouldn't Let Troubles Daunt

You--Perhaps You Would Scarcely Notice Them When You Had Made Up Your

Mind."

 

The Man Smiled, Rather Wistfully.  He Could Feel Things Keenly, And He

Had His Romance; But Sylvia Resumed:

 

"I Sometimes Wonder If You Ever Felt Really Badly Hurt?"

 

"Once," He Said Quietly.  "I Think I Have Got Over It."

 

"Ah!" She Murmured.  "I Was Afraid You Would Blame Me, But Now It Seems

That Dick Knew You Better Than I Did.  When He Made You My Trustee, He

Said That You Were Too Big To Bear Him Malice."

 

The Blood Crept Into George's Face.

 

"After The First Shock Had Passed, And I Could Reason Calmly, I Don't

Think I Blamed Either Of You.  You Had Promised Me Nothing; Dick Was A

Brilliant Man, With A Charm Everybody Felt.  By Comparison, I Was

Merely A Plodder."

 

Sylvia Mused For A Few Moments.

 

"George," She Said Presently, "I Sometimes Think You're A Little Too

Diffident.  You Plodders Who Go Straight On, Stopping For Nothing,

Generally Gain Your Object In The End."

 

His Heart Beat Faster.  It Looked As If She Meant This For A Hint.

 

Volume 554 Chapter 3 (A Matter Of Duty) Pg 17

"I Can't Thank You Properly," She Continued; "Though I Know That All

You Undertake Will Be Thoroughly Carried Out.  I Wish I Hadn't Been

Forced To Let You Go So Far Away; There Is Nobody Else I Can Rely On."

 

He Could Not Tell Her That He Longed For The Right To Shelter Her

Always--It Was Not Very Long Since The Canadian Tragedy--But Silence

Cost Him An Effort.  At Length She Touched His Arm.

 

"It's Getting Late, And The Others Will Wonder Where We Are," She

Reminded Him.

 

They Went Back To The House; And When Sylvia Joined Mrs. Lansing,

George Felt Seriously Annoyed With Himself.  He Had Been Deeply

Stirred, But He Had Preserved An Unmoved Appearance When He Might Have

Expressed Some Sympathy Of Tenderness Which Could Not Have Been

Resented.  Presently Ethel West Crossed The Room To Where He Was Rather

Moodily Standing.

 

"I Believe Our Car Is Waiting, And, As Edgar Won't Let Me Come To The

Station To-Morrow, I Must Say Good-By Now," She Told Him.  "Both

Stephen And I Are Glad He Is On Your Hands."

 

"I Must Try To Deserve Your Confidence," George Said, Smiling.  "It's

Premature Yet."

 

"Never Mind That.  We're Alike In Some Respects: Pretty Speeches Don't

Appeal To Us.  But There's One Thing I Must Tell You--Don't Delay Out

Yonder, Come Back As Soon As You Can."

 

She Left Him Thoughtful.  He Had A High Opinion Of Ethel's

Intelligence, But He Would Entertain No Doubts Or Misgivings.  They

Were Treasonable To Herbert And, What Was Worse, To Sylvia.

 

Going To Bed In Good Time, He Had Only A Few Words With Sylvia Over His

Early Breakfast In The Morning.  Then He Was Driven To The Station,

Where Edgar Joined Him; And The Greater Part Of Their Journey Proved

Uneventful.

 

Twelve Days After Leaving Liverpool They Were, However, Awakened Early

One Morning By Feeling The Express-Train Suddenly Slacken Speed.  The

Big Cars Shook With A Violent Jarring, And George Hurriedly Swung

Himself Down From His Upper Berth.  He Had Some Difficulty In Getting

Into His Jacket And Putting On His Boots, But He Pushed Through The

Startled Passengers And Sprang Down Upon The Track Before The Train

Quite Stopped.  He Knew That Accidents Were Not Uncommon In The Wilds

Of Northern Ontario.

 

Ragged Firs Rose, Dripping, Against The Rosy Glow In The Eastern Sky,

With The Narrow Gap, Hewed Out For The Line, Running Through Their

Midst.  Some Had Been Stripped Of Their Smaller Branches