"Thank G.o.d," said Jack fervently. "The day has not been lost. You will be sure to come again to see me," he added as Jane said good-bye.

"Yes, indeed, you may be quite sure of that," replied Jane, smiling brightly back at him as she left the room with Nora.

"What a pity she is so plain," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt when she had returned from seeing Jane on her way with Nora and Mr. Wakeham.

"My dear Sybil, you waste your pity," said her brother. "That young lady is so attractive that one forgets whether she is plain or not. I can't quite explain her fascination for me. There's perfect sincerity to begin with. She is never posing. And perfect simplicity. And besides that she is so intellectually keen, she keeps one alive."

"I just love her," said Kathleen. "She has such a good heart."

"You have said it," said Mrs. Waring-Gaunt, "and that is why Jane will never lose her charm."

CHAPTER XVII

THE TRAGEDIES OF LOVE

When the week had fled Dr. Brown could hardly persuade himself and his hosts at Lakeside Farm that the time had come for his departure to the coast. Not since he had settled down to the practice of his profession at Winnipeg more than twenty years ago had such a holiday been his.

Alberta, its climate, its life of large s.p.a.ces and far visions, its hospitable people, had got hold of him by so strong a grip that in parting he vowed that he would not await an opportunity but make one to repeat his visit to the ranch. And so he departed with the understanding that Jane should follow him to Banff ten days later with her friend Nora.

The ten days were to Jane as a radiant, swiftly moving dream. Yet with so much to gratify her, one wish had remained ungratified. Though from early morning until late night she had ridden the ranges now with one and now with another, but for the most part with Larry, Jane had never "done the mine."

"And I just know I shall go away without seeing that mine, and Winnipeg people will be sure to ask me about it, and what shall I say? And I have never seen that wonderful secretary, Mr. Switzer, either."

"To-morrow," said Larry solemnly, "no matter what happens we shall have you see that mine and the wonderful Mr. Switzer."

It was the seeing of Mr. Switzer that brought to Jane the only touch of tragedy to the perfect joy of her visit to Alberta. Upon arrival at the mine she was given over by Larry to Mr. Switzer's courteous and intelligent guidance, and with an enthusiasm that never wearied, her guide left nothing of the mine outside or in, to which with painstaking minuteness he failed to call her attention. It was with no small degree of pride that Mr. Switzer explained all that had been accomplished during the brief ten weeks during which the mine had been under his care. For although it was quite true that Mr. Steinberg was the manager, Switzer left no doubt in Jane's mind, as there was none in his own, that the mine owed its present state of development to his driving energy and to his organising ability. Jane readily forgave him his evident pride in himself as he exclaimed, sweeping his hand toward the little village that lay along the coolee,

"Ten weeks ago, Miss Brown, there was nothing here but a little black hole in the hillside over there. To-day look at it. We have a company organised, a village built and equipped with modern improvements, water, light, drainage, etc. We are actually digging and shipping coal. It is all very small as yet, but it is something to feel that a beginning has been made."

"I think it is really quite a remarkable achievement, Mr. Switzer. And I feel sure that I do not begin to know all that this means. They all say that you have accomplished great things in the short time you have been at work."

"We are only beginning," said Switzer again, "but I believe we shall have a great mine. It will be a good thing--for the Gwynnes, I mean--and that is worth while. Of course, my own money is invested here too and I am working for myself, but I a.s.sure you that I chiefly think of them. It is a joy, Miss Brown, to work for those you love."

"It is," replied Jane, slightly puzzled at this altruistic point of view; "The Gwynnes are dear people and I am glad for their sakes. I love them."

"Yes," continued Switzer, "this will be a great mine. They will be wealthy some day."

"That will be splendid," said Jane. "You see I have only got to know them well during this visit. Nine years ago I met them in Winnipeg when I was a little girl. Of course, Kathleen was with us a great deal last winter. I got to know her well then. She is so lovely, and she is lovelier now than ever. She is so happy, you know."

Switzer looked puzzled. "Happy? Because you are here?"

"No, no. Because of her engagement. Haven't you heard? I thought everybody knew."

Switzer stood still in his tracks. "Her engagement?" he said in a hushed voice. "Her engagement to--to that"--he could not apparently get the word out without a great effort--"that Englishman?"

Looking at his white face and listening to his tense voice, Jane felt as if she were standing at the edge of a mine that might explode at any moment.

"Yes, to Mr. Romayne," she said, and waited, almost holding her breath.

"It is not true!" he shouted. "It's a lie. Ha, Ha." Switzer's laugh was full of incredulous scorn. "Engaged? And how do YOU know?" He swung fiercely upon her, his eyes glaring out of a face ghastly white.

"I am sorry I said anything, Mr. Switzer. It was not my business to speak of it," said Jane quietly. "But I thought you knew."

Gradually the thing seemed to reach his mind. "Your business?" he said.

"What difference whose business it is? It is not true. I say it is not true. How do you know? Tell me. Tell me. Tell me." He seized her by the arm, and at each "Tell me" shook her violently.

"You are hurting me, Mr. Switzer," said Jane.

He dropped her arm. "Then, my G.o.d, will you not tell me? How do you know?"

"Mr. Switzer, believe me it is true," said Jane, trying to speak quietly, though she was shaking with excitement and terror. "Mr. Romayne told me, they all told me, Kathleen told me. It is quite true, Mr.

Switzer."

He stared at her as if trying to take in the meaning of her words, then glared around him like a hunted animal seeking escape from a ring of foes, then back at her again. There were workmen pa.s.sing close to them on the path, but he saw nothing of them. Jane was looking at his ghastly face. She was stricken with pity for him.

"Shall we walk on this way?" she said, touching his arm.

He shook off her touch but followed her away from the busy track of the workers, along a quieter path among the trees. Sheltered from observation, she slowed her steps and turned towards him.

"She loves him?" he said in a low husky voice. "You say she loves him?"

"Yes, Mr. Switzer, she loves him," said Jane. "She cannot help herself.

No one can help one's self. You must not blame her for that, Mr.

Switzer."

"She does not love me," said Switzer as if stunned by the utterly inexplicable phenomenon. "But she did once," he cried. "She did before that schwein came." No words could describe the hate and contempt in his voice. He appeared to concentrate his pa.s.sions struggling for expression, love, rage, hate, wounded pride, into one single stream of fury. Grinding his teeth, foaming, sputtering, he poured forth his words in an impetuous torrent.

"He stole her from me! this schwein of an Englishman! He came like a thief, like a dog and a dog's son and stole her! She was mine! She would have been mine! She loved me! She was learning to love me. I was too quick with her once, but she had forgiven me and was learning to love me. But this pig!" He gnashed his teeth upon the word.

"Stop, Mr. Switzer," said Jane, controlling her agitation and her terror. "You must not speak to me like that. You are forgetting yourself."

"Forgetting myself!" he raged, his face livid blue and white.

"Forgetting myself! Yes, yes! I forget everything but one thing. That I shall not forget. I shall not forget him nor how he stole her from me. Gott in Himmel! Him I shall never forget. No, when these hairs are white," he struck his head with his clenched fist, "I shall still remember and curse him." Abruptly he stayed the rush of his words. Then more deliberately but with an added intensity of pa.s.sion he continued, "But no, never shall he have her. Never. G.o.d hears me. Never. Him I will kill, destroy." He had wrought himself up into a paroxysm of uncontrollable fury, his breath came in jerking gasps, his features worked with convulsive twitchings, his jaws champed and snapped upon his words like a dog's worrying rats.

To Jane it seemed a horrible and repulsive sight, yet she could not stay her pity from him. She remembered it was love that had moved him to this pitch of madness. Love after all was a terrible thing. She could not despise him. She could only pity. Her very silence at length recalled him. For some moments he stood struggling to regain his composure.

Gradually he became aware that her eyes were resting on his face. The pity in her eyes touched him, subdued him, quenched the heat of his rage.

"I have lost her," he said, his lips quivering. "She will never change."

"No, she will never change," replied Jane gently. "But you can always love her. And she will be happy."

"She will be happy?" he exclaimed, looking at her in astonishment. "But she will not be mine."

"No, she will not be yours," said Jane still very gently, "but she will be happy, and after all, that is what you most want. You are anxious chiefly that she shall be happy. You would give everything to make her happy."

"I would give my life. Oh, gladly, gladly, I would give my life, I would give my soul, I would give everything I have on earth and heaven too."