Prescott of Saskatchewan Part 42

"No," he answered; "I haven't thought so. What suggested the idea?"

It was obvious that he had no suspicion of her motive, and she was not prepared to explain that she wished to place Muriel beyond Prescott's reach.

"Well," she said lamely, "aren't you rather neglecting your duties?"

"No," Colston replied with a smile; "as they're to a large extent merely formal ones, I believe they can wait a little longer without much harm being done."

Mrs. Colston was surprised. She had not expected such an admission from her husband, though she agreed with him. Harry was not, as a rule, susceptible to new impressions, but there was a subtle influence in the simple life on the prairies which altered one's point of view and led to one's forming a new estimate of values. She had felt this. Things which had seemed essential in England somehow lost their importance in Canada.

"Besides," he resumed, "you will remember that I made arrangements to be away a year, if necessary, and perhaps if I make the most of my opportunities in this country, I may have something worth while to say when we go home again."

This was more in his usual vein; but his wife did not encourage him.

Harry was apt to grow tiresome in his improving mood.

"But you don't think of staying the full year?" she asked in alarm.

"Oh, no; we might wait another week or two, or even a month more. It wouldn't be the thing to desert Jernyngham; and, as we're mixed up in it, I feel it would be better to see the matter through." He smiled at his wife with c.u.mbrous gallantry. "Then, though you always look charming, you're now unusually fresh and fit; there's no doubt that the place agrees with you."

Mrs. Colston could not deny it. She yielded for the present, deciding to wait until some turn of events rendered him more amenable. In spite of his good humor, Harry was obstinate and often hard to move.

She went to join Gertrude, while Muriel, sitting alone where she had been left, laid down her book, and let her eyes range slowly round the room, trying to a.n.a.lyze the impression it made on her. There was no carpet on the floor; the walls were made of mill-dressed boards which had cracked with the dryness and smelt of turpentine. The furniture consisted of a few bent-hardwood chairs and a rickety table covered with a gaudy cloth.

The nickeled lamp, which diffused an unpleasant odor, was of florid but very inartistic design; the plain stove stood in an ugly iron tray, and its galvanized pipe ran up, unconcealed, to the ceiling. A black distillate had trickled down from a bend in it, and stained the floor.

Muriel realized that had she been expected to live in such a place in England it would have struck her as comfortless, and almost squalid; but now, perhaps by contrast with the frozen desolation without, it looked cheerful, and had a homelike air. This, she thought, was significant, and she followed up the train of ideas to which it led. She had a practical, independent bent; she liked to handle and investigate things for herself, to get into close and intimate touch with life. At home, this had not often been possible; she was too sheltered and, in a sense, too secluded.

The people she met were conventional, acting in accordance with a recognized code, concealing their feelings. If she rode or drove, somebody got ready the horse for her; it was the same with the car. When she strolled through an English garden, she might pluck a flower or take pleasure in the smoothness of the lawn, but it was always with the feeling that others had planted and mown. She could take no active part in things; there was little that she could really do.

It was different on the Western prairie. Here men and women showed anger or sorrow or gladness more or less openly. One could realize their emotions, and this, instead of deterring, attracted her; one came to close grips with the primitive influences of human nature. Then they were strenuous people, toiling stubbornly, rejoicing in tangible results that their hands and brains had produced. Woman was man's real helpmate, not a companion for his idle hours. She kept his house, and in time of pressure drove his horses; she had her say in determining the count of the cattle and the bushels of seed, and it was sometimes conceded that her judgment was the better.

But this was only one aspect of the subject that filled the girl's thoughts. She knew that Prescott loved her and she was glad of it; but here she stopped. She was sanguine, impulsive, courageous, but, with all that could be said for it, the change she must face if he claimed her was a startling one. Besides, he must clear himself of suspicion, and because the part of a mere looker-on was uncongenial, there was a course which she would urge on him. She must see him and convince him of the necessity for it. Soon after she had made up her mind on this point, Jernyngham and Colston came in, and she had to talk to them.

CHAPTER XXV

A WOMAN'S INFLUENCE

Muriel found it needful to wait several days for an opportunity for speaking to Prescott. It did not seem advisable to visit his house again, and she was at a loss for a means of meeting him when she overheard Leslie tell his wife that he would ask Prescott, who was going to Sebastian the next morning, to bring out some stores they required. The next day Muriel borrowed a team and, contenting herself with an intimation that she was going for a long drive, set off for the settlement. It would be time enough to confess her object if her sister taxed her with it, and there were one or two purchases she really wished to make.

She had never gone so far alone, though she had occasionally driven to an outlying farm, and the expedition had in it the zest of adventure.

Moreover, she was boldly going to undertake a very unusual task in showing Prescott what he ought to do. So far, she had been an interested spectator of the drama of life, but now she would partic.i.p.ate in it, exercising such powers as she possessed, and the thought was additionally fascinating because among her intimate friends she could not pick out a man who owed much to a woman's guidance. Her sister had some mental gifts, but Harry Colston, disregarding her in a good-humored but dogged fas.h.i.+on, did what he thought best; while the idea of Jernyngham's deferring to Gertrude was frankly ridiculous. Neither man had much ability; indeed, it was, as a rule, the dullest men who were most convinced of their superior sense. Prescott far surpa.s.sed them in intellect; but she pulled herself up. She was not going to dwell on Prescott's virtues unduly, and she had not convinced him yet.

The team gave her no trouble, the trail was good, and reaching Sebastian safely, she spent some time in a drygoods store, and afterward went to the hotel, where supper was being served. She would not have waited for it, only that she had seen nothing of Prescott, and she had the excuse that the team must have a rest. On entering the big dining-room she was inclined to regret that meals can rarely be had in private in the West, although, by the favor of a waitress, she succeeded in obtaining a small table to herself. There were only two women present, clerks in the store, she believed, but the room was nearly filled with men. Among them were ranchers with faces darkened by the glare of the snow, some of them wearing shabby coats from which the fur was coming off, though the room was warm; a few railroad hands who laid sooty mittens on the table; the smart station-agent; a number of storekeepers and clerks. Now and then boisterous laughter rang out, and one group indulged in rather pointed banter, while the way that several of them used their knives and forks left much to be desired; but n.o.body regarded the girl with marked attention. For all that, she was sensible of some relief when Prescott came in and moved toward her table.

"May I take this place?" he asked.

"Of course," she said.

After speaking to a waitress, he inquired whether Colston or her sister were at the hotel.

"No; I drove in alone."

She saw his surprise, which suggested that her task might prove more difficult than she had imagined.

"Well," he said, "the trail's pretty good and there's a moon to-night; but didn't you hesitate about getting supper here by yourself?"

"Not very much; there was really no reason why I should hesitate."

"That's true. But you had your doubts?"

"They were foolish," Muriel told him. "Why are you so curious?"

"I'm interested." He indicated the room and its occupants. "These people, their manners, and surroundings are typical of the New West."

"Do you feel that you ought to defend them?"

"Oh, no! They don't need it. They have their faults and their virtues, and neither are mean. They've the makings of a big nation and they're doing great work to-day. However, you had certainly no cause for uneasiness; there's not a man in the place who would have shown you the least disrespect."

"After all," Muriel contended, "they're not your people. You came from Montreal; your ideas and habits are more like ours than theirs."

"They're mine by adoption; I've thrown in my lot with them." He fixed his eyes on her. "Do you know the secret of making colonization a success? In a way, it's a hard truth, but it's this--there must be no looking back.

The old ties must be cut loose once for all; a man must think of the land in which he prospers as his home; it's not a square deal to run back with the money he has made in it. He must grow up with the rising nation he becomes a member of."

"Yes," Muriel conceded slowly; "I think that is so. But it's harder for a woman."

"And yet have you seen any one who looked unhappy?"

"No," she admitted with thoughtful candor. "The few I have got to know seem to have an importance that perhaps is not very common at home. For instance, I heard Leslie giving his wife his reasons for thinking of buying some Hereford cattle, and his respect for her opinion impressed me."

Prescott smiled.

"If I were going to sell those beasts, I'd rather make the deal with her husband."

Then he changed the subject and they talked in a lighter vein until the room began to empty and a waitress came to collect the plates.

"Don't they close this place as soon as supper is finished?" Muriel asked, trying to overcome her diffidence. "Where can I have a word or two with you? I was afraid that somebody might overhear us here."

"The parlor would be best," he answered in some surprise. "The boys prefer the downstairs room and the bar. I'll tell the man about my horse, and then I'll be there."

Muriel found the few minutes she had to wait trying, but she gathered her courage when he joined her.

"Sit down," she said with an air of decision. "I'd better begin at once, and the thing is serious. What have you done to clear yourself, since I last saw you?"

His searching glance filled her with misgivings; without being subtle, he was by no means dull, and he must be curious about her motive in asking him. To her relief, however, he confined himself to the point she had raised.

"Nothing. I don't see what can be done."

"Then are you content to remain suspected?"