Horsfield examined his cigar.
"Of course, I can't press you; but I may, perhaps, suggest that, as we'll have to work together in other matters, I might be able to give you a quid pro quo."
"That occurred to me. On the other hand, I don't know how much importance
I ought to attach to the consideration."
His companion laughed with apparent good-humor.
"Oh, well; I must wait until you're ready."
He strolled away, and presently joined his sister.
"How does Vane strike you?" he asked. "You seem to get on with him."
"I've an idea that you won't find him easy to influence," answered the girl, looking at her brother pointedly.
"I'm inclined to agree with you. In spite of that, he's a man whose acquaintance is worth cultivating."
He passed on to speak to Nairn; and shortly afterward Vane sat down beside Jessy in a corner of a big room. Looking out across the veranda, he could see far-off snowy heights tower in cold silver tracery against the green of the evening sky. Voices and laughter reached him, and now and then some of the guests strolled through the room. It was pleasant to lounge there and feel that Miss Horsfield had taken him under her wing, which seemed to describe her attitude toward him. She was handsome, and he noticed how finely the soft, neutral tinting of her attire, which was neither blue nor altogether gray, matched the azure of her eyes and emphasized the dead-gold coloring of her hair.
"As Mrs. Nairn tells me you are going to England, I suppose we shall not see you in Vancouver for some months," she said presently. "This city really isn't a bad place to live in."
Vane felt gratified. She had implied that he would be an acquisition and had included him among the number of her acquaintances.
"I fancy that I shall find it a particularly pleasant place," he responded. "Indeed, I'm inclined to be sorry that I've made arrangements to leave it very shortly."
"That is pure good-nature," laughed his companion.
"No; it's what I really feel."
Jessy let this pass.
"Mrs. Nairn mentioned that you know the Chisholms."
"I'd better say that I used to do so. They have probably changed out of my knowledge, and they can scarcely remember me except by name."
"But you are going to see them?"
"I expect to spend some time with them."
Jessy changed the subject, and Vane found her conversation entertaining. She appealed to his artistic perceptions and his intelligence, and it must be admitted that she laid herself out to do so. She said nothing of any consequence, but she knew how to make a glance or a changed inflection expressive. He was sorry when she left him, but she smiled at him before she moved away.
"If you and Mr. Carroll care to call, I am generally at home in the afternoon," she said.
She crossed the room, and Vane joined Nairn and remained near him until he took his departure.
Late the next afternoon, an hour or two after an Empress liner from China and Japan had arrived, he and Carroll reached the C.P.R. station. The Atlantic train was waiting and an unusual number of passengers were hurrying about the cars. They were, for the most part, prosperous people: business men, and tourists from England going home that way; and when Vane found Mrs. Marvin and Kitty, he once more was conscious of a stirring of compassion. The girl's dress, which had struck him as becoming on the afternoon they spent on the beach, now looked shabby. In Mrs. Marvin's case, the impression was more marked, and standing amid the bustling throng with the child clinging to her hand she looked curiously forlorn. Kitty smiled at him diffidently.
"You have been so kind," she began, and, pausing, added with a tremor in her voice: "But the tickets—"
"Pshaw!" interrupted Vane. "If it will ease your mind, you can send me what they cost after the first full house you draw."
"How shall we address you?"
"Clermont Mineral Exploitation. I don't want to think I'm going to lose sight of you."
Kitty looked away from him a moment, and then looked back.
"I'm afraid you must make up your mind to that," she said.
Vane could not remember his answer, though he afterward tried; but just then an official strode along beside the cars, calling to the passengers, and when a bell began tolling Vane hurried the girl and her companions onto a platform. Mrs. Marvin entered the car, Elsie held up her face to kiss him before she disappeared, and he and Kitty were left alone. She held out her hand, and a liquid gleam crept into her eyes.
"We can't thank you properly," she murmured, "Good-by!"
"No," Vane protested. "You mustn't say that."
"Yes," answered Kitty firmly, but with signs of effort. "It's good-by.
You'll be carried on in a moment!"
Vane gazed down at her, and afterward wondered at what he did, but she looked so forlorn and desolate, and the pretty face was so close to his. Stooping swiftly, he kissed her, and had a thrilling fancy that she did not recoil; then the cars lurched forward and he swung himself down. They slid past him, clanking, while he stood and gazed after them. Turning around, he was by no means pleased to see that Nairn was regarding him with quiet amusement.
"Been seeing the train away?" the latter suggested. "It's a popular diversion with idle folk."
"I was saying good-by to somebody I met on the west coast," Vane explained.
"Weel," chuckled Nairn, "she has bonny een."
CHAPTER V
THE OLD COUNTRY
A month after Vane said good-by to Kitty he and Carroll alighted one evening at a little station in northern England. Brown moors stretched about it, for the heather had not bloomed yet, rolling back in long slopes to the high ridge which cut against leaden thunder-clouds in the eastern sky. To the westward, they fell away; and across a wide, green valley smooth-backed heights gave place in turn to splintered crags and ragged pinnacles etched in gray and purple on a vivid saffron glow. The road outside the station gleamed with water, and a few big drops of rain came splashing down, but there was a bracing freshness in the mountain air.
The train went on, and Vane stood still, looking about him with a poignant recollection of how he had last waited on that platform, sick at heart, but gathering his youthful courage for the effort that he must make. It all came back to him—the dejection, the sense of loneliness—for he was then going out to the Western Dominion in which he had not a friend. Now he was returning, moderately prosperous and successful; but once again the feeling of loneliness was with him—most of those whom he had left behind had made a longer journey than he had done. Then he noticed an elderly man, in rather shabby livery, approaching, and he held out his hand with a smile of pleasure.
"You haven't changed a bit, Jim!" he exclaimed. "Have you got the young gray in the new cart outside?"
"T' owd gray was shot twelve months since," the man replied. "Broke his leg comin' down Hartop Bank. New car was sold off, done, two or t'ree years ago."
"That's bad news. Anyway, you're the same."
"A bit stiffer in the joints, and maybe a bit sourer," was the answer.
Then the man's wrinkled face relaxed. "I'm main glad to see thee, Mr.
Wallace. Master wad have