Lady Merton, Colonist Part 4

"And it is now eleven o'clock in the morning," sighed Lady Merton.

"Well!--I think a little exercise would be a good thing."

And she descended the steps of the car. The Canadian hesitated.

"Would you allow me to walk with you?" he said, with formality. "I might perhaps be able to tell you a few things. I belong to the railway."

"I shall be greatly obliged," said Elizabeth, cordially. "Do you mean that you are an official?"

"I am an engineer--in charge of some construction work in the Rockies."

Lady Merton's face brightened.

"Indeed! I think that must be one of the most interesting things in the world to be."

The Canadian's eyebrows lifted a little.

"I don't know that I ever thought of it like that," he said, half smiling. "It's good work--but I've done things a good deal livelier in my time."

"You've not always been an engineer?"

"Very few people are always 'anything' in Canada," he said, laughing.

"It's like the States. One tries a lot of things. Oh, I was trained as an engineer--at Montreal. But directly I had finished with that I went off to Klond.y.k.e. I made a bit of money--came back--and lost it all, in a milling business--over there"--he pointed eastwards--"on the Lake of the Woods. My partner cheated me. Then I went exploring to the north, and took a Government job at the same time--paying treaty money to the Indians. Then, five years ago, I got work for the C.P.R. But I shall cut it before long. I've saved some money again. I shall take up land, and go into politics."

"Politics?" repeated Elizabeth, wis.h.i.+ng she might some day know what politics meant in Canada. "You're not married?" she added pleasantly.

"I am not married."

"And may I ask your name?"

His name, it seemed, was George Anderson, and presently as they walked up and down he became somewhat communicative about himself, though always within the limits, as it seemed to her, of a natural dignity, which developed indeed as their acquaintance progressed. He told her tales, especially, of his Indian journeys through the wilds about the Athabasca and Mackenzie rivers, in search of remote Indian settlements--that the word of England to the red man might be kept; and his graphic talk called up before her the vision of a northern wilderness, even wilder and remoter than that she had just pa.s.sed through, where yet the earth teemed with lakes and timber and trout-bearing streams, and where--"we shall grow corn some day," as he presently informed her. "In twenty years they will have developed seed that will ripen three weeks earlier than wheat does now in Manitoba.

Then we shall settle that country--right away!--to the far north." His tone stirred and deepened. A little while before, it had seemed to her that her tourist enthusiasm amused him. Yet by flashes, she began to feel in him something, beside which her own raptures fell silent. Had she, after all, hit upon a man--a practical man--who was yet conscious of the romance of Canada?

Presently she asked him if there was no one dependent on him--no mother?--or sisters?

"I have two brothers--in the Government service at Ottawa. I had four sisters."

"Are they married?"

"They are dead," he said, slowly. "They and my mother were burnt to death."

She exclaimed. Her brown eyes turned upon him--all sudden horror and compa.s.sion.

"It was a farmhouse where we were living--and it took fire. Mother and sisters had no time to escape. It was early morning. I was a boy of eighteen, and was out on the farm doing my ch.o.r.es. When I saw smoke and came back, the house was a burning ma.s.s, and--it was all over."

"Where was your father?"

"My father is dead."

"But he was there--at the time of the fire?"

"Yes. He was there."

He had suddenly ceased to be communicative, and she instinctively asked no more questions, except as to the cause of the conflagration.

"Probably an explosion of coal-oil. It was sometimes used to light the fire with in the morning."

"How very, very terrible!" she said gently, after a moment, as though she felt it. "Did you stay on at the farm?"

"I brought up my two brothers. They were on a visit to some neighbours at the time of the fire. We stayed on three years."

"With your father?"

"No; we three alone."

She felt vaguely puzzled; but before she could turn to another subject, he had added--

"There was nothing else for us to do. We had no money and no relations--nothing but the land. So we had to work it--and we managed.

But after three years we'd saved a little money, and we wanted to get a bit more education. So we sold the land and moved up to Montreal."

"How old were the brothers when you took on the farm?"

"Thirteen--and fifteen."

"Wonderful!" she exclaimed. "You must be proud."

He laughed out.

"Why, that kind of thing's done every day in this country! You can't idle in Canada."

They had turned back towards the train. In the doorway of the car sat Philip Gaddesden lounging and smoking, enveloped in a fur coat, his knees covered with a magnificent fur rug. A whisky and soda had just been placed at his right hand. Elizabeth thought--"He said that because he had seen Philip." But when she looked at him, she withdrew her supposition. His eyes were not on the car, and he was evidently thinking of something else.

"I hope your brother will take no harm," he said to her, as they approached the car. "Can I be of any service to you in Winnipeg?"

"Oh, thank you. We have some introductions--"

"Of course. But if I can--let me know."

An official came along the line, with a packet in his hand. At sight of Elizabeth he stopped and raised his hat.

"Am I speaking to Lady Merton? I have some letters here, that have been waiting for you at Winnipeg, and they've sent them out to you."

He placed the packet in her hand. The Canadian moved away, but not before Elizabeth had seen again the veiled amus.e.m.e.nt in his eyes. It seemed to him comic, no doubt, that the idlers of the world should be so royally treated. But after all--she drew herself up--her father had been no idler.

She hastened to her brother; and they fell upon their letters.

"Oh, Philip!"--she said presently, looking up--"Philip! Arthur Delaine meets us at Winnipeg."

"Does he? _Does he_?" repeated the young man, laughing. "I say, Lisa!--"