Partners of the Out-Trail Part 51

There was no other way. Carrie knew he loved her, but she had shown him his duty. If he drew back and broke with Evelyn, he would earn her contempt; Carrie was very staunch and put honor first. Anyhow, he was going to draw back; he had been a fool, but he could pay. The trouble was, Evelyn was clever and might find him out. His face went grim as he thought about it; the strain of pretending, the effort to be kind.

For all that, the effort must be made, and perhaps by and by things would be easier.

For a week he was quiet and moody and tried to occupy himself at the d.y.k.e. The evenings were the worst, because it soon got dark and he must talk to Jake and Carrie and try to look calm. Then he was puzzled about other things. Evelyn had gone to London and had not written to him. A few days afterwards, d.i.c.k, too, went to town, and Mrs. Halliday did not know why he had gone. Jim thought this strange, but it was not important.

Coming home one evening from the marsh, he found d.i.c.k with the others in the hall. It was nearly dark, but there was a bright fire and Carrie was making tea. d.i.c.k kneeled on the rug, toasting m.u.f.fins on a long fork, and laughed when Carrie bantered him about being afraid to scorch his hands. Jim envied d.i.c.k, and remembered with poignant regret the days when he had helped Carrie by the camp-fire in the woods. Then d.i.c.k looked up and Jim thought him embarra.s.sed.

"Hallo, d.i.c.k!" he said. "When did you get back?"

d.i.c.k said he arrived in the morning, and Jim asked if he had met Evelyn in town.

"I did," d.i.c.k replied. "She was pretty well, but it's two or three days since. She said she'd write to you."

Jim nodded. d.i.c.k's voice was careless, but Jim thought his carelessness was forced. Then he turned to Carrie. "Did the postman call?"

"Yes," said Carrie. "Your mail is on the table."

Jim got the letters and lighting a lamp sat down in an easy-chair. The envelope with the London postmark was from Evelyn, but he would sooner read her note when he was alone. He opened another and presently looked up.

"Martin has written to me from Vancouver. The Irrigation Company has won the lawsuit and proved its claim to the water-rights. The shares are going up again, and Martin's hopeful about the future. I can sell out for face value, but he urges me to hold."

"Ah," said Carrie, "that's good news! You can trust Martin. I expect the company has straightened up because they made him a director."

"It's very possible. He sends your mother and you greetings and hopes you haven't forgotten him."

"One doesn't forget men like that," Carrie replied. "Martin's all white; clever and strong and straight. But doesn't this mean you have got over your troubles?"

"I suppose I can go ahead with the d.y.k.es," said Jim.

He was quiet afterwards and let the others talk, until Carrie got up and went away with Mrs. Winter and Jake. When the door shut d.i.c.k looked up.

"Has Evelyn written to you?"

"Yes," said Jim. "I haven't read her note yet."

"I don't know if that is strange or not, but perhaps you had better read it. I expect it will clear the ground for me and I have something to say."

Jim opened the envelope and braced himself, for he was half-ashamed of the satisfaction he got from the first few lines; moreover, he did not want d.i.c.k to know what he felt. Evelyn was apologetic, but she set him free.

"I thought I loved you, Jim," she said. "I wanted to be brave and simple, but found it would cost too much. Now I hope you won't be hurt, and by and by perhaps you will be glad I let you go. You will go far, Jim, with your large stride, fronting the storms you love; but I could not have taken your path. Mine must be sheltered and smooth----"

There was more, for Evelyn wrote with some feeling in a romantic strain, but Jim had read enough. His look was puzzled as he turned to d.i.c.k.

"Your sister has turned me down," he said. "The grounds she gives are good enough. I imagine you knew?"

"I did know. I suspected for some time that she would do so, but she did not tell me until I was in town."

"Then I don't understand----"

d.i.c.k hesitated before he replied: "Lance said something at Dryholm that I thought ominous. He declared I'd be sorry, and I bothered about it for a day or two. Then I saw a light and got the next train to town.

He meant that he was going to marry Evelyn."

"That's unthinkable! Besides, Evelyn was then pledged to marry me."

"It looks as if you didn't know Lance yet; I'm not sure you altogether know Evelyn. Anyhow, I saw her and stopped the thing. I think she got a bad jolt when I told her about the punt."

Jim looked at the date on the note. "When did you see her?"

d.i.c.k told him and he pondered. Then he said, "She wrote to me after she knew about the punt, although you imply that she agreed to marry Lance before. It's puzzling."

"I've got to be frank," d.i.c.k replied. "Evelyn is not like Carrie; she takes the easiest line. I Imagine she meant to say nothing until she had quietly married Lance. Then we'd have been forced to accept the situation." He paused and his face got red as he resumed: "I'm thankful I was not too late, but I'm sorry I could not find Lance."

Jim was silent for a time. He had believed in Evelyn after illumination had come on the sands. Although he knew his imagination had cheated him, he owned her charm and his respect for her was strong.

Now he had got a jar. Evelyn was not the girl he had thought; it looked as if she were calculating, unscrupulous, and weak. If she had let him go before she had agreed to marry Lance, he could have forgiven her much. He was savage with himself. It was for Evelyn's sake he had lost Carrie, who was tender, brave, and staunch.

By and by he roused himself and asked: "Have you told your mother?"

"I have not. I felt I was forced to tell you, but it would be better that n.o.body else should know. Florence, with whom Evelyn stayed, will not talk."

Jim nodded. "You can trust me, d.i.c.k. The statements in this letter are enough; Evelyn imagined she could not be happy with me, and she was, no doubt, right!"

"You're a good sort, Jim," said d.i.c.k with some embarra.s.sment. "It's not strange you feel sore. It cost me something to be frank; apologizing for one's sister is hard."

"It's done with," Jim said quietly, and as d.i.c.k got up a servant came in with a pink envelope.

"A telegram for Mr. Halliday," she said. "As Mrs. Halliday was not at home, the gardener brought it on."

The servant went out and d.i.c.k laughed harshly when he read the telegram.

"Evelyn was married this morning, but not to Lance," he said. "Well, I expect mother will be satisfied. From one point of view, the marriage is good."

"Then, you know the man?" said Jim, who sympathized with d.i.c.k's'

bitterness.

"I do," said d.i.c.k, very dryly. "He's rich and getting fat, but on the whole, I imagine he's as good a husband as Evelyn deserves. I sometimes thought he wanted her and she quietly held him off; it looks as if she had lost no time now." He paused and the blood came to his skin as he resumed: "I'm breaking rules, this is rotten bad form, but you ought to be thankful you hadn't the misfortune to marry into our family."

Jim put his hand on the other's arm. "Stop it, d.i.c.k! You have been honest and we are friends. But I think you have said enough."

"Then give me a drink and let me go. I need bracing; the thing has knocked me off my balance."

"Here you are," said Jim, who went to a cupboard, and d.i.c.k lifted his gla.s.s.

"Good luck, Jim! You are lucky, you know. But if you're not a fool, you'll marry Carrie Winter."

He went out and Jim sat down again, looking straight in front, with knitted brows. He did not know how long he mused, but he got up abruptly when Carrie came in. She glanced at him curiously when he indicated a chair, and for a few moments he stood opposite, irresolute and frowning. Then he gave her Evelyn's note.

"After all, there is no reason you shouldn't read this," he said.

Carrie took the note and Jim thought her hand trembled when she returned it.