The Girl from Keller's Part 15

"The snares are all cut up," he said. "I broke the fellow's stick and threw away the pegs."

Helen felt a strange desire to laugh. There was something ridiculous in his nave triumph, but she was not really amused. In fact, her confused sensations were puzzling.

"Did you hurt him?" she asked.

"I hope so," said Festing. "I rather think I did and don't expect he'll come back while I'm about. However, as I can't come here as often as I'd like, it might be better to see your agent. In the meantime, we'll look for some mushrooms."

"But don't you want to bathe your face?"

"I forgot that I probably look the worse for wear," said Festing, who wiped his cut lip. "Still if I met your mother, she might get a shock, and now I come to think of it, I'm no doubt jarring you, so I'll go off and see your agent if you'll tell me where he lives."

"It's some distance, and we don't do things so quickly here. I must talk to my mother first. Besides, the agent may not have got up."

"Then I'll sit on the doorstep. But what is there to talk about? You don't want your rabbits tortured so that somebody may make thirty cents apiece. It has got to be stopped, and why not stop it now? Where does the fellow live?"

Helen told him, and added: "But you can't go like that."

"No; I suppose not," said Festing doubtfully. "It won't make a long round if I call at Gardiner's. I'll come back later and tell you how I've fixed things up."

He lifted his badly crushed hat, and when he turned away Helen laughed, a half-hysterical laugh. His fierce energy had, so to speak, left her breathless; she was shaken by confused emotions. It was for her sake he had plunged into the quarrel, but she felt disturbed by his savageness.

For all that, something in her approved, and it was really this that troubled her. Picking up the basket, she crossed the field with a very thoughtful look.

CHAPTER X

HELEN DECIDES

Some weeks had pa.s.sed since Festing went to gather mushrooms when he sat, one evening, on the terrace in front of Gardiner's house. His brows were knit and he had in his had a letter from Kerr at the construction camp. The back of the letter was covered with penciled calculations, but he presently put it down and looked moodily about.

The larches that sheltered the house had been in full leaf when he came, but now they were getting bare. One could see the hills through a fine network of twigs, dotted with minute ta.s.sels of gold. The beeches and oaks looked solid yet, but the former shone warm brown and red against the others' fading green. Withered leaves fluttered down, and the smell of a burning heap hung in the damp air.

The touches of brown and gold in the landscape hinted that time was pa.s.sing. Winter was already advancing across the wastes of Northern Canada and the geese and ducks were flying south. Festing heard in fancy the brant's changing cry that always filled him with unrest, but the letter in his hand was a clearer call. Kerr had offered him a contract for hauling a quant.i.ty of telegraph posts and logs across the snow, and his calculations indicated that the work ought to be profitable.

It would keep him occupied all winter; one could buy horses cheap when harvest was over and sell them advantageously when plowing began in the spring. Besides, the money he earned would help him to stock his farm and furnish his homestead well.

He had loitered in England long enough. He would never forget this holiday, for he had learned what happiness life might have in store; but it was a happiness that could not be attained by romantic dreams. He must earn it by tense effort, and was willing to pay the price; this was the reason he must get back to work. For all that, he had doubts, and was glad when Muriel came along the terrace and sat down on the bench.

"You look unusually thoughtful," she said.

"I have something to think about. I find I must go back to Canada very soon."

Muriel made an abrupt movement. "You are going away! But we thought--"

She paused and resumed: "Does Helen know?"

"Not yet; I must tell her. It will cost me something to leave, but I've got to go. Perhaps you had better see what Kerr has to say."

He gave her the letter, and after waiting until she had read it, went on: "I can't let this chance pa.s.s; I want the money."

"I think I understand," said Muriel. "Still you haven't told me much."

He was silent for a few moments and looked very grave, but she had for some time imagined that he was bearing a strain.

"Well," he said, "I'm up against things and can't see my way. That is, I do see where I mean to go, but don't know if I ought."

"The problem's not exactly new. However, if you will state it clearly."

"I'll try," said Festing. "One can trust you; in fact, I wanted to tell you before."

He explained his difficulties, practical and moral, and when he finished Muriel said: "It comes to this--You are in love with Helen and mean to marry her, but hesitate because you fear she may find the life too hard."

"It's a big risk for an English girl. She must give up everything, while I have all to gain."

"But suppose she were willing?"

"The trouble is that she doesn't know what she may have to bear."

Muriel smiled. "It's a risk that many girls must run. But after all it depends upon what she values most."

"Comfort, leisure, refined friends, and other things you enjoy here are worth much to a girl."

"All this is true," Muriel agreed, and pausing, continued with a blush: "Still these things don't satisfy every need, and perhaps my example may be some encouragement. Fred isn't very clever and will probably never be rich, but I'd sooner face poverty with him than marry a prince."

Festing bowed. "Thank you for that! Fred's a very good sort. I knew you had pluck."

"I really think Helen is pluckier and stronger than me. But I imagine you have already made up your mind."

"I have; for all that, I'm afraid. If I have bad luck, Helen will have to pay. I know she was willing to marry Charnock, but she was very young then and he was rich compared with me."

"Then I suppose a little money would be a useful help?"

"It would, in one way," Festing agreed. "The trouble is that I haven't much; only enough to make a fair start if I'm economical."

For a moment Muriel looked amused, but her seriousness returned. "We'll let that go. You seem to forget that you don't stand alone. I should have found it hard to forgive Fred if he had decided whether he ought to marry or not, without consulting me. It's a girl's right, not her lover's, to say what she values most and how much she is willing to bear. If Helen loves you, she's ent.i.tled to be given the choice."

"Ah," said Festing, "I don't know if she loves me yet!"

Muriel's eyes twinkled. "That is something you must find out for yourself. But perhaps I have said enough."

She went back to the house and Festing sat still in the gathering dark.

He had made up his mind and felt encouraged, but he saw difficulties that must be met.

Next day he went to the Scar and found that Helen was not at home, but Mrs. Dalton and her sister received him, and for a time he talked about things that did not matter. It was dull and damp outside, and a bright wood fire burned in the grate. The low-ceilinged room was very warm, its comfort seemed enervating, and he felt braced as he thought of the windswept prairie. Then he knew his remarks were vague and disconnected.

It was a relief to plunge into the business he had come about.

"I had better tell you that I am going to ask Helen to marry me," he said.

Mrs. Dalton did not look surprised, and he thought Miss Graham smiled.

Perhaps he had been abrupt, but he did not care.