Thurston of Orchard Valley

"I tell you, Thurston, there's something uncanny about that man of late," he continued. "However, knowing there's no use trying to fool you, I'll give you a fair warning and come straight to something I may as well say now as later. Savine will go down like a house of cards some day, and those who lean upon him will find it, in our language, frosty weather. Now, suppose we made you a fair offer, would you join us?"

A curt refusal trembled upon Geoffrey's lips, when he reflected that, as soon as the work was finished, his relations with Savine would be drawn closer still. In the meantime, it was not advisable to give any hint to a possible enemy.

"I couldn't say until I heard what the offer is," he answered cautiously.

"You're a typical cold-blooded Britisher," asserted the other man. "I don't know either. I leave all details to the members of the company; but we've a secretary, who understands all about it, in this house to-night. We're half of us here on business, directly or indirectly, and not for pleasure, so it's possible he may talk to you. But I see our hostess eying us, and it's time we walked along."

They moved forward together, and the woman whom they approached, beckoning Geoffrey, whom she had for some reason taken under her patronage, said:

"There's a countrywoman of yours present, who doesn't know many of our people yet. I should like to present you to her. She comes, I understand, from the same wilds which sheltered you. Mrs. Leslie, this is a special protégé of mine, Mr. Thurston, who could give you all information about the mountains in which your husband talks of banishing you."

A handsome, tastefully-dressed woman turned more fully towards them, and for a moment Geoffrey stood still in blank astonishment. The average man would find it disconcerting to be brought, without warning, suddenly face to face in a strange country with a woman who had discarded him, and Thurston showed slight embarrassment.

"Mrs. Henry Leslie! But you evidently know each other!" exclaimed the hostess, whose quick eyes had noticed his startled expression.

Millicent had changed since the last time Geoffrey saw her. She had lost her fresh cream and rose prettiness, but had gained something in place of it, and though her pale blue eyes were too deeply sunk, her face had acquired strength and dignity. She was, as he had always found her, perfectly self-possessed. With a quick glance, which expressed appeal and warning, she said:

"We are not quite strangers. I knew Mr. Thurston in England."

The young Englishman and his countrywoman moved away together, and Geoffrey presently found himself standing in a broad corridor with Millicent's hand upon his arm. Through a long window which opened into a balcony the clear moonlight shone. A wide vista of forest and sparkling sea lured them out of doors.

"A breath of fresh air would be delightful. It would be quiet out there, and I expect you have much to tell me." It was Millicent who spoke, with quiet composure, and her companion wondered at his own lack of feeling. After the first shock of the surprise he was sensible of no particular indignation or emotion. It seemed as if any tenderness that he had once felt for her had long since disappeared. There was little that he cared to tell her; but, prompted by some impulse which may have been mere curiosity, he drew the window open and they passed out upon the balcony.

"This reminds one of other days," said the woman, with a sigh. "Had I known you were here, I should have dreaded to meet you, but it is very pleasant to see you again. You have surely altered, Geoffrey. I should hardly have expected to find you so friendly."

"I am not in the least inclined to reproach you for the past," was the sober answer. Geoffrey was distinctly perplexed, for he had acquired a clearer perception of Millicent's character since he left England, and now he felt almost indignant with himself for wondering what she wanted. Glancing at her face he was conscious of a certain pity as well as a vague distrust, for it was evident that her life had not been altogether smooth or her health really robust. But the fact that she should recall the far-off days in England jarred upon him.

"It is a relief to learn that you are not angry, at least. What are you doing over here, Geoffrey?" she asked.

"Reclaiming a valley from a river. Living up among the mountains in the snow," was the answer.

"And you like it? You can find happiness in the hard life?"

"Better than anything I ever undertook before. Happiness is a somewhat indefinite term, and, perhaps because I have seldom found leisure to consider whether I am happy or not, the presumption is that I am at least contented."

Millicent sighed and her face grew sad, while Thurston rebelled against an instinctive conviction that she knew a wistful expression was becoming to her and was calculated to appeal to a male observer.

"One could envy you!" she said softly, and Geoffrey, rising superior to all critical thoughts, felt only sincere pity.

"Have you not been happy in – Canada, Millicent?" he inquired, and if the woman noticed how nearly he had avoided a blunder, which is distinctly probable, she at least made no sign.

"I can't resist the temptation to answer you frankly, Geoffrey," she replied. "I have had severe trials, and some, I fear, have left their mark on me. There are experiences after which one is never quite the same. You heard of the financial disaster which overtook us? Yes? Black days followed it, but Mr. Leslie has hopes of succeeding in this country, and that will brighten the future – indirectly even – for me."

"Ah!" Geoffrey spoke with a peculiar inflection of the voice, for though he could forgive the woman now, he could not forget his resentment towards the man who had supplanted him. "For your sake, I hope he will."

Millicent glanced at him sideways, and, as if anxious to change the subject, asked:

"Is it the Orchard Valley you are endeavoring to reclaim? Yes. I might have guessed it. I have heard people say that the scheme of Mr. Savine, if that is his name, is impracticable. It is characteristic of you, Geoffrey, to play out a losing game, but, with one's future at stake, is it wise?"

"I do not know that I was ever particularly remarkable for wisdom," Geoffrey answered with a shake of the head. "The scheme in question is, however, by no means so impracticable as some persons imagine it to be."

"Then you still hope for success. Have you not failed in one or two of your efforts?"

Millicent's voice was politely indifferent, but a certain keenness in her eyes, which did not escape Geoffrey's notice, betrayed more than a casual interest. Thurston afterwards decided that the shock of the unexpected meeting had the effect of rendering his perceptions unusually quick.

"I have not been often successful," he admitted, with a laugh, "but my employer is, as you may have heard, a sanguine person, and has not hitherto been beaten."

"I hope he will not be in this instance," said Millicent, and it occurred to Geoffrey that she was concealing a sense of disappointment. They talked a little longer and then she remarked: "I am afraid we have been shamefully neglecting our social duties, but as we shall, in all probability, meet now and then, I hope – in spite of all that has happened – it will be as good friends."

Again the man felt that the meeting had not been brought about wholly by accident, but he bent his head as he answered:

"If ever you should need a friend, you can, for the sake of old times, count on me."

"One of the finest views in the province," said a voice behind them. "We are proud of the prospect from this balcony. If you stand here, Miss Helen, you can enjoy it, and tell me if you have anything better at High Maples. Most romantic spot on such a night for a quiet chat, and if I was only twenty years younger, my dear young lady – " Then the speaker evidently retired with some precipitation from the window, as he added, "No, never mind drawing the curtain, Savine. If she is not over tired I can show your daughter something interesting in the conservatory instead."

"Romantic spot occupied already!" The laugh which accompanied the sound of retreating footsteps and the rustle of drapery, was unmistakably that of Julius Savine.

Geoffrey, who fumed inwardly at the reflection that his attitude was distinctly liable to misconception, straightened himself with perhaps too great a suddenness, while the faint amusement in his companion's face heightened his displeasure. Millicent had managed to obtain a survey of the intruders, and when sure that they had moved away, she rose, saying, "So that is the beautiful Miss Savine! No doubt you have seen her, and, like all the rest, admire her?"

"Yes," confessed Geoffrey. "I can honestly say I do." Millicent regarded him curiously.

"You have heard that we women seldom praise one another, and therefore, while admitting that she is coldly handsome, I should imagine Miss Savine to be a trying person," she commented. "Now we must return to our social duties – in my case, at least, no one could call them pleasures."

Some little time later Helen, whose eyes had kindled for a moment when her gray-haired escort led her towards the balcony, heard the bluff Canadian answer the question that had been in her mind.

"Who was the lady? Can't exactly say. Her husband's Leslie, the Britisher, who started the land-agency offices, you will remember there was trouble about, and is now, I believe, secretary to the Industrial Enterprise. Frankly, I don't like the man – strikes me as a smart adventurer, and my wife does not take to Mrs. Leslie. The man on the balcony was Thurston, Savine's assistant, and a good fellow. He generally follows humbly in Miss Savine's train, and, considering Leslie's connection with the rival company, I don't quite see what he could be doing in that gallery."

Helen was piqued. She was too proud to admit to herself that she was jealous, but she had not risen superior to all the characteristics of her sex; and, knowing something of her father's business affairs, she was also puzzled. Thurston's attitude towards his companion had not been that of a casual acquaintance, to say the least, and Helen could not help wondering what could be his connection with the wife of one whose interests, she gathered, must be diametrically opposed to her father's. Then, though endeavoring to decide that it did not matter, she determined to put Thurston to the test at the first opportunity.

Meantime Geoffrey stood alone for a few minutes looking out into the moonlit night. "I am growing brutally suspicious, and poor Millicent has suffered – she can't well hide it," he told himself. "Well, we were fond of each other once, and, whether it's her husband or adversity, whenever I can help her, I must try to do so." It was the revolt of an open nature against the evidence of his senses, but even while Geoffrey framed this resolution something seemed to whisper, "Was she ever fond of you? There is that in the woman's voice which does not ring true."

He had hardly turned back to rejoin the other members of his party when a business acquaintance met him.

"I want you to spare a few minutes for a countryman who has been inquiring about you," said the man. "Mr. Leslie, this is Mr. Thurston – the secretary of the Industrial Enterprise!"

The business acquaintance withdrew, and Geoffrey's lips set tight as he turned towards Leslie who betrayed a certain uneasiness in spite of his nonchalant manner. He was a dark-haired man with a pale face, which had grown more heavy and sensual than it was as Geoffrey remembered it.

"I don't know whether I should say this is a pleasure," Leslie remarked lightly. "There is no use disguising the fact that we last met under somewhat unfortunate circumstances, but I give you my word that it was too late to suggest that my employers should choose another emissary when I discovered your identity. Where commercial interests are concerned, surely we can both rise superior to mere sentiment."

"There are things which it is uncommonly hard to forget," Geoffrey replied coldly. "The question is, however – What do you want with me?" He meant his tone and pose to be anything but conciliatory.

"I want the favor of a business interview before you return," said Leslie, trying to hide his discomfiture, and Geoffrey answered:

"That is hardly possible. I return early to-morrow."

"Can you drive over to my quarters now?"

"No. I desire to see my chief before I go."