Ranching for Sylvia Part 37

"I'll think it over," she said.

After they had discussed the projected journey, Mrs. Lansing withdrew on some domestic errand, and Herbert turned to Sylvia.

"I needn't point out that you'll be no trouble to us, but perhaps I'd better mention that I had a letter from George this post. As there's very little to be done until the spring, he thinks of coming over. I don't know how far that may affect your decision."

Sylvia was a little startled, but she reflected rapidly. The house of the relative she had thought of visiting would be open to George, as would be one or two others in which she might stay a while. It was most undesirable that he should encounter Bland, which would be likely to happen. Then it struck her that Herbert might derive as little satisfaction from his cousin's visit as it would afford her.

"Have you succeeded in selling George's shares yet?" she asked, and though this was, on the face of it, an abrupt change of subject, she thought Herbert would follow the sequence of ideas.

"No," he answered, with a smile of comprehension. "It was too late when I was able to attend to things; they have dropped to such a price that I'll have to keep them. I'm afraid it will be a blow to George, and he's having trouble enough already with your farm; but, luckily, some other shares I bought on his account show signs of a marked improvement before long."

Sylvia inferred from this that he had not informed his cousin of the state of his affairs, and did not wish to see him until the improvement mentioned, or some other favorable development, should mitigate the shock of discovering what use Herbert had made of his powers. It was clear that it rested with her to decide whether George made the visit or not, because if she went to Egypt he would remain in Canada. But she was not quite ready to give her companion an answer.

"Did I tell you that I met Singleton a little while ago?" she said. "I think he wished to speak, but I merely bowed. I was in a hurry, for one thing."

"It's the first I've heard of it, but you did quite right. Since he was here, one or two of the other directors who tried to give me some trouble have got hold of him. They have sent him out to see what can be done with the rubber property."

"Was that worth while?"

"I shouldn't think so. It strikes me they're wasting their money."

This was Herbert's firm belief, but his judgment while generally accurate, had, in this instance, proved defective. He had failed properly to estimate Singleton's capabilities. It was, however, obvious to Sylvia that he had had no part in the undertaking, and had abandoned his rubber schemes, which implied that George's loss would be serious. There was no doubt that it would suit both Herbert and herself better if George did not come back too soon.

"Well," she said, "that is not a matter of any consequence to me.

After all, I think I'll go south with you and Muriel."

Herbert had foreseen this decision.

"It's the most suitable arrangement," he responded. "When I write, I'll mention it to George."

Sylvia went out a little later with a sense of guilt; she felt that in removing the strongest inducement for George's visit she had betrayed him. She was sorry for George, but she could not allow any consideration for him to interfere with her ambitions. Then she resolutely drove these thoughts away. The matter could be looked at in a more pleasant light, and there were several good reasons for the course she had adopted.

Entering the library, she carefully wrote a little note to Captain Bland, and then went in search of Mrs. Lansing.

"I think I'll go over to Susan's for the week-end," she announced. "I promised her another visit, and now I can explain that I'm going away with you."

Mrs. Lansing made no objection, and three or four days afterward Sylvia met Bland at Mrs. Kettering's house. He arrived after her, and as there were other guests, she had to wait a little while before she could get a word with him alone. She was standing in the big hall, which was unoccupied, rather late in the evening, when he came toward her.

"I thought I should never escape from Kettering; but he's safe for a while, talking guns in the smoking-room," he said.

Sylvia thought that they would be safe from interruption for a few minutes, which would serve her purpose.

"So you have managed to get here," she said.

"Had you any doubt of my succeeding?" Bland asked reproachfully.

"Kettering once gave me a standing invitation, and, as it happens, there's a famous horse dealer in this neighborhood with whom I've had some business. That and the few Sunday trains formed a good excuse.

I, however, don't mind in the least if Mrs. Kettering attaches any significance to the visit."

Sylvia did not wish to arouse the suspicions of her hostess, but she smiled.

"I expected you, and I'm glad you came," she said.

"That's very nice to hear."

"Don't take too much for granted. Still, I thought I'd like to see you, because I'm going to Egypt with Muriel for some time. Indeed, I shall not be back until the spring."

The man displayed dismayed surprise, and Sylvia waited for his answer with some eagerness. She did not wish to enter into a formal engagement--it was a little too early to make an announcement yet--but she thought it wise to bind him in some degree before she left.

"Until the spring?" he broke out. "You expect me to let you go?"

"You must," said Sylvia firmly, and added in a softer voice, "I'm rather sorry."

He saw that he could not shake her decision.

"Then we must have a clear understanding," he rejoined hotly. "You know I want you--when is this waiting to end? Tell me now, and let me tell all who care to hear, that you belong to me."

Sylvia made a gesture of protest and coquettishly looked down.

"You must still have patience," she murmured; "the time will soon pa.s.s."

"And then?" he asked with eagerness.

She glanced up at him shyly.

"If you will ask me again when I come back, I will give you your answer."

She left him no reason for doubting what that answer would be; and, stretching out his arms, he drew her strongly to him. In a minute or two, however, Sylvia insisted on his returning to his host, and soon afterward Mrs. Kettering came in to look for her.

CHAPTER XX

A BLIZZARD

A bitter wind searched the poplar bluff where George and his hired man, Grierson, were cutting fuel. Except in the river valleys, trees of any size are scarce on the prairie, but the slender trunks and leafless branches were closely ma.s.sed and afforded a little shelter. Outside on the open waste, the cold was almost too severe to face, and George once or twice glanced anxiously across the snowy levels, looking for some sign of Edgar, who should have joined them with the team and sledge.

It was, however, difficult to see far, because a gray dimness narrowed in the horizon. George stood, dressed in snow-flecked furs, in the center of a little clearing strewn with rows of fallen trunks from which he was hewing off the branches. The work was hard; his whole body strained with each stroke of the heavy ax, but it failed to keep him warm, and the wind was growing more bitter with the approach of night.

"I don't know what can be keeping West," he said after a while. "We haven't seen the mail-carrier either, and he's two hours late; but he must have had a heavy trail all the way from the settlement. I expect he'll cut out our place and make straight for Grant's. We'll have snow before long."

There was an empty shack not far away where, by George's consent, the mail-carrier left letters when bad weather made it desirable to shorten his round.

Grierson nodded as he glanced about. The stretch of desolate white prairie had contracted since he had last noticed it, the surrounding dimness was creeping nearer in, and the ranks of poplar trunks were losing their sharpness of form. Now that the men had ceased chopping, they could hear the eerie moaning of the wind and the sharp patter of icy snow-dust among the withered brush.

"It will take him all his time to fetch Grant's; I wish Mr. West would come before it gets dark," Grierson said with a s.h.i.+ver, and fell to work again.

Several minutes pa.s.sed. George was thinking more about the mail-carrier's movements than about Edgar's. The English letters should have arrived, and he was anxiously wondering if there were any for him. Then, as he stopped for breath, a dim moving blur grew out of the prairie, and he flung down his ax.

"Here's West; we'll have light enough to put up the load," he said.