Ranching for Sylvia Part 33

"The fact that you sold out so soon before the fall will have its significance," said the first man. "The thing has a suspicious look."

"I must risk a certain amount of misconception," Herbert replied languidly. "I may as well point out that I still hold the shares required as a director's qualification, which is all it was necessary for me to do. Was it your intention to keep the stock you hold permanently?"

They could not answer him, and he smiled.

"As a matter of fact, we all intended to sell off a good portion as soon as the premium justified it; the only difference of opinion was about the point it must reach, and that, of course, was a matter of temperament. Well, I was lucky enough to get rid of part of my stock at a profit; and there was nothing to prevent your doing the same.

Instead of that, you held on until the drop came; it was an imprudence for which you can't blame me."

"Our complaint is that you foresaw the fall and never said a word."

"Granted. Why didn't you foresee it? You had the right of access to all the information in my hands; you could inspect accounts in the London office; I suppose you read the financial papers. It would have been presumptuous if I'd recommended you to sell, and my forecast might have proved incorrect. In that case you would have blamed me for losing your money."

This was incontestable. Though they knew he had betrayed them, Lansing's position was too strong to be a.s.sailed.

"You might have mentioned that you contemplated retiring from the board," one remarked. "Then we would have known what to expect."

"A little reflection will show the futility of your suggestion. How could I contemplate being run over by a motor-car?"

"Well," said the second man in a grim tone, "you can't deny the accident was in some respects a fortunate one for you."

"I'm doubtful whether you would have appreciated it, in my place. But you don't seem to realize that I'm withdrawing from the board because I'm incapacitated for the duties."

Then the nurse, to whom Herbert had given a hint, came in; and he made a sign of resignation, quite as though overpowered by regret.

"I'm sorry I'm not allowed to talk very much yet. Will you have a cigar and some refreshment before you leave?"

His visitors rose, and one of them turned to him with a curious expression.

"No, thanks," he said pointedly. "Considering everything, I don't think we'll give you the trouble."

With a few conventional words they withdrew, and Herbert smiled at the nurse.

"I believe Dr. Ballin was most concerned about the injury to my nerves," he said. "Have you noticed anything wrong with them?"

"Not lately. They seem to be in a normal state."

"That," said Herbert, "is my own opinion. You wouldn't imagine that I had just finished a rather trying interview?"

"No; you look more amused than upset."

"There was something humorous in the situation; that's often the case when you see greedy people wasting effort and ingenuity. Perhaps you heard my visitors expressing their anxiety about my health, though I've a suspicion that they felt more like wishing the car had made an end of me."

The nurse laughed and told him that he had better rest; and Herbert lay back upon the cushions she arranged, with calm content.

During the evening, Sylvia entered the room, dressed a little more carefully than usual, and Herbert glanced at her with appreciation.

"You look charming, though that's your normal state," he said. "Where are you going?"

"With Muriel, to dine with the Wests; have you forgotten? But I came in because Muriel told me you had a letter from George by the last post."

"So you're still interested in his doings," Herbert rejoined.

"Of course. Does that surprise you?"

"I was beginning to think there was some risk of your forgetting him, which, perhaps, wouldn't be altogether unnatural. He's a long way off, which has often its effect, and there's no denying the fact that in many respects you and he are different."

"Doesn't the same thing apply to you and Muriel? Everybody knows you get on excellently in spite of it."

Herbert laughed. He was aware that his friends had wondered why he had married Muriel, and suspected that some of them believed her money had tempted him. Nevertheless, he made her an affectionate as well as a considerate husband. In business matters he practised the easy morality of a hungry beast of prey, but he had his virtues.

"Yes," he said, "that's true. Do you find it encouraging?"

Sylvia had felt a little angry, though she had known that it was seldom wise to provoke her host.

Without waiting for her answer he continued, half seriously: "There's often one person who thinks better of us than we deserve, and I dare say I'm fortunate in that respect. In such a case, one feels it an obligation not to abuse that person's confidence."

A slight flush crept into Sylvia's face. George believed in her and she was very shabbily rewarding his trust.

"I'm surprised to hear you moralizing. It's not a habit of yours," she remarked.

"No," said Herbert, pointedly; "though it may now and then make one feel a little uncomfortable, it seldom does much good. But we were talking about George. He tells me that winter's beginning unusually soon; they've had what he calls a severe cold snap and the prairie's deep with snow. He bought some more stock and young horses as an offset to the bad harvest, and he's doubtful whether he has put up hay enough. West and he are busy hauling stove-wood home from a bluff; and he has had a little trouble with some shady characters as a result of his taking part in a temperance campaign. I think that's all he has to say."

Sylvia broke into half-incredulous merriment.

"It's hard to imagine George as a temperance reformer. Think of him, making speeches!"

"Speeches aren't much in George's line," Herbert admitted. "Still, in one way, I wasn't greatly astonished at the news. He's just the man to be drawn into difficulties he might avoid, provided that somebody could convince him the thing needed doing."

"Then you think he has been convinced?"

"I can hardly imagine George's setting out on a work of the kind he mentioned without some persuasion," said Herbert with a smile. "The subject's not one he ever took much interest in, and he's by no means original."

Sylvia agreed with him, but she was silent a few moments, reclining in an easy chair before the cheerful fire, while she glanced round the room. It was comfortably furnished, warm, and brightly lighted; a strong contrast to the lonely Canadian homestead to which her thoughts wandered. She could recall the unpolished stove, filling the place with its curious, unpleasant smell, and the icy draughts that eddied about it. She could imagine the swish of driving snow about the quivering wooden building when the dreaded blizzards raged; the strange, oppressive silence when the prairie lay still in the grip of the Arctic frost; and George coming in with half-frozen limbs and snow-dust on his furs, to spend the dreary evening in trying to keep warm. The picture her memory painted was vivid and it had a disturbing effect. It was in her service that the man was toiling in western Canada.

"Well," she said, rising with some abruptness, "it's time we got off.

I'd better see if Muriel is ready."

CHAPTER XVIII

BLAND MAKES A SACRIFICE

Sylvia was sitting by the hearth in Ethel West's drawing-room, her neatly shod feet on the fender, her low chair on the fleecy rug, and she made a very dainty and attractive picture. She felt the cold and hated discomfort of any kind, though it was characteristic of her that she generally succeeded in avoiding it. Ethel sat near by, watching her with calmly curious eyes, for Sylvia was looking pensive. Mrs.

Lansing was talking to Stephen West on the opposite side of the large room.

"How is Edgar getting on?" Sylvia asked. "I suppose you hear from him now and then."