"'Rather glad' hardly seems to describe it; you looked overjoyed."

"Don't be severe, Millicent. Let me explain. Since Lisle came over, nothing has been quite the same. He got hold of you and Nasmyth and the others, and in a way alienated you from me. I don't mean he did it with deliberate intention, but he took up your time and monopolized your interest. I've seen much less of both of you."

"And, of late, of the Crestwicks."

"Oh," he returned in his most casual manner, "I shouldn't have had much more of their company in any case. Jim's going to Canada and Bella to Suss.e.x. I understand from Marple that it will be some time before she visits us again."

Millicent was glad to hear it, but she made no comment.

"It's unreasonable to blame Lisle," Gladwyne went on; "though he did make some unpleasantness with Batley; but I have had so many annoyances and troubles since he arrived. Everything has been going wrong and I can't disa.s.sociate him from the unfortunate tendency."

He sat where the light fell upon his face, and Millicent, studying it, was stirred to compa.s.sion, which was always ready with her. He looked hara.s.sed and nervous, as if he had borne a heavy strain, and she knew that the accident had preyed upon his mind. That, she thought, was to his credit. In addition to this, she had suspected that he was threatened with financial difficulties. The man had a dangerous gift of rousing women's interest and sympathy.

"I'm sorry," she said with sincere feeling. "You should go away for a time. You need a change."

"I've thought of it; but I'm afraid I've been neglecting things lately and there's a good deal that needs straightening up--farm buildings to be looked to, the stream to d.y.k.e in the low ground, and that draining scheme."

It was not all acting; he had meant to give those matters some attention when he found it convenient, and she was far from suspicious and was quick to take the most favorable view of any one. That he recognized his duties and intended to discharge them gratified her.

"I think," she told him, "that if you undertake these things in earnest, you'll be better for the occupation; and they certainly need looking after."

"I've been slack," he owned. "I seemed to lose interest and, as I said, I've had difficulties to distract me."

He had struck the right note again. Anything of the nature of a confession or appeal for sympathy seldom failed to stir her.

"In fact," he resumed, "I'm not clear of troubles now. If I do half that I'm asked to do, it will nearly ruin me, and I don't know where to begin.

I haven't any great confidence in Grierson's advice; he doesn't seem to grip things readily."

"The trouble is that he has his favorites," she said bluntly. "I don't think he suffers from any lack of understanding."

"What do you mean?"

It was unpleasant, but she had courage and the man was doing Clarence harm.

"Well, there are people who can get very much what they ask Grierson for, in the shape of repairs and improvements, whether they need it or not."

"At my expense, while the rest get less than they should have?"

"A number of your tenants have got practically nothing for some years.

It's false economy; you'll have to lay out twice as much as would keep them here satisfied, when they leave you in disgust."

She supplied him with several instances of neglect, and a few clever suggestions, and he looked at her in admiration which was only partly a.s.sumed.

"What an administrator you would have made!" he exclaimed. "The place would thrive in your hands and everybody be content. It's obvious, quite apart from his good qualities, why George was so popular."

Millicent did not suspect him of an intent to flatter her, and she recognized that there was truth in what he said. She knew everybody on the estate and knew their most pressing needs, and she undoubtedly possessed the power of management. She had a keen discernment and could arrive at a quick and just decision.

"Clarence," she said, "I shouldn't advise you to take the business altogether out of Grierson's hands. He's honest, so far as you are concerned, and one or two of the hardest things he did were by your orders."

"You mean the Milburn and Grainger affair?" He showed a little embarra.s.sment. "Well, perhaps I was hasty then, but they would have exasperated a much more patient man. I sometimes feel that I can't please these people, whatever I do."

She smiled at this.

"They're not effusive, but they're loyal once you win their confidence.

But, to go back to Grierson--let him collect payments and handle the money, but don't ask his advice as to how you will lay it out. Look around, inquire into things, and trust your own judgment."

He turned to her beseechingly.

"I can't trust it in these matters--it hasn't been cultivated. If I'm to keep out of further trouble and do any good, you must help me."

Millicent hesitated. It was not a little thing he asked. To guide him aright would need thought and patient investigation. Still, there was, as she had said, so much to be done--abuses to be abolished, houses to be made habitable, burdens to be lifted from shoulders unable to carry them.

There was also land the yield from which could be increased by a very moderate expenditure. She would enjoy the power to do these things which the man's demand for help offered her, but she was more stirred by his desire to redeem past neglect and set right his failures.

"Well," she promised, "you shall have my candid advice whenever you need it."

He showed his grat.i.tude, but he was conscious of a satisfaction that had no connection with the welfare of his estate. He would have a legitimate excuse for seeing her often; the work jointly undertaken would lead to a closer confidence. He had always cherished a certain tenderness for her; he must marry somebody with money before long; and though Millicent's means were not so large as Bella's, they were not contemptible. He had not the honesty to let these thoughts obtrude themselves, but they nevertheless hovered at the back of his mind. It was more graceful to reflect that Millicent possessed refinement, a degree of beauty, and many most desirable qualities.

CHAPTER XX

MRS. GLADWYNE'S TEMPTATION

Clarence had gone away with Batley when Lisle called on Mrs. Gladwyne.

She was leaving home for a visit on the following day and he wished to say good-by, and, if an opportunity offered, to ask her opinion upon a matter he had at heart. She was not a clever woman, but there were points on which he thought her judgment could be trusted. He was told that she would be occupied for a few minutes and was shown into her drawing-room.

He sat down to wait and, though he was familiar with the house, he looked about him with an interest for which there was a reason. The room had always impressed him by its size and loftiness, and it did so more than ever that afternoon.

The floor was of hardwood, polished to a glossy l.u.s.ter by the hands of several generations, and the rugs scattered here and there emphasized its extent. Most of the furniture was old, and the few articles apparently bought in later times harmonized with it. The faded ceiling had been painted with Cupid's trailing ribands, he judged by some artist of the period shortly preceding the French Revolution, and two or three Arcadian figures hinted at the same date. There were other things--a l.u.s.ter chandelier, quaintly-wrought hearth-irons, a carved wood mantel--that posited to bygone days.

It all impressed him with a sense of the continuity of English traditions and mode of life, as applied to such families as the Gladwynes. Cradled in a degree of luxury which nevertheless differed from modern profusion and ostentation, steeped in a slightly austere refinement, he could understand their shrinking from sudden chance and clinging to the customs of the past. They were all, so far as he had seen, characterized by the possession of high qualities, with the exception of Clarence, whom he regarded as a reversion to a baser type; but he thought that they would suffer if uprooted and transplanted in a less sheltered and less cultivated soil. Inherited instincts were difficult to subdue; he was conscious of their influence. He came from a new land where he had often toiled for a dollar or two daily, but a love and veneration for the ancient English homes in which his people had lived was growing strong in him.

Mrs. Gladwyne did not appear, but he had a good deal to think of and was content to wait. He had grown fond of the stately lady and it was, indeed, largely for her sake that he had decided not to reveal for a while what he knew about the tragedy in British Columbia. He could not absolutely prove his version of the affair, and it would bring distress upon the mother of the offender; he had already waited two years and, though he felt that his dead comrade had a strong claim on him, he could wait a little longer. Fate might place conclusive evidence in his hands or remove some of his difficulties. Besides, he must go back as soon as possible to the Canadian North, and in one respect he was very loath to do this.

At last he heard a footstep and his hostess came in. Her dress was not of the latest fashion, but it somehow struck him as out of place; she ought to have been attired in the mode of a century ago, with powder in her hair. Nevertheless, fragile as she was, with her fine carriage and her gracious smile, she made an attractive picture in the ancient room.

"I've come on an unpleasant errand--to say good-by--and to thank you for many favors shown to a stranger," he said.

"I think you were never that from the beginning," she told him. "By and by we learned the reason--you really belong to us."

He made a gesture of humorous expostulation.

"I like to believe that I belong here, but not because of the explanation you give. It doesn't seem to be much to my credit that my forefathers lived in this part of the country; I'd rather be taken on my actual merits, if that isn't, too egotistical."

"They did live here," she rejoined. "You can't get over that--it has its influence."

It was the point of view he had expected her to take.