Vane swung himself down from the wall. During the past two weeks he had seen a good deal of Evelyn, and his regard for her had rapidly grown stronger. Now that news that his affairs were prospering had reached him, he suddenly made up his mind.

"It's very possible that I may do so," he informed his comrade. "We'll get along."

His heart beat a little more rapidly than usual as they turned back toward the house, but he was perfectly composed when some time later he sat down beside Chisholm, who was lounging away the morning on the lawn.

"I've been across to the village for a telegram I expected," he said, handing Chisholm the deciphered message. "It occurred to me that you might be interested. The news is encouraging."

Chisholm read it with inward satisfaction. When he laid it down he had determined on the line he meant to follow.

"You're a fortunate man. There's probably no reasonable wish that you can't gratify."

"There are things one can't buy with money," Vane replied.

"That is very true. They're often the most valuable. On the other hand, some of them may now and then be had for the asking. Besides, when one has a sanguine temperament and a determination, it's difficult to believe that anything one sets one's heart on is quite unattainable."

Vane wondered whether he had been given a hint. Chisholm's manner was suggestive, and Carroll's remarks had had an effect on him. He sat silent, and Chisholm continued:

"If I were in your place, I should feel that I had all that I could desire within my reach."

Vane was becoming sure that his comrade had been right. Chisholm would not have harped on the same idea unless he had intended to convey some particular meaning; but the man's methods roused Vane's dislike. He could face opposition, and he would rather have been discouraged than judiciously prompted.

"Then if I offered myself as a suitor for Evelyn, you would not think me presumptuous?"

Chisholm was somewhat astonished at his abruptness, but he smiled rea.s.suringly.

"No; I can't see why I should do so. You are in a position to maintain a wife in comfort, and I don't think anybody could take exception to your character." He paused a moment. "I suppose you have some idea of how Evelyn regards you?"

"Not the faintest. That's the trouble."

"Would you like Mrs. Chisholm or myself to mention the matter?"

"No," answered Vane decidedly. "In fact, I must ask you not to do anything of the kind. I only wished to make sure of your good will, and now that I'm satisfied on that point, I'd rather wait and speak--when it seems judicious."

Chisholm nodded.

"I dare say that would be wisest. There is nothing to be gained by being precipitate."

Vane thanked him, and waited. He fancied that the transaction--that seemed the best name for it--was not completed yet; but he meant to leave the matter to his companion; he would not help the man.

"There's something that had better be mentioned now, distasteful as it is," Chisholm said at length. "I can settle nothing upon Evelyn. As you must have guessed, my affairs are in a far from promising state. Indeed, I'm afraid I may have to ask your indulgence when the loan falls due; and I don't mind confessing that the prospect of Evelyn's making what I think is a suitable marriage is a relief to me."

Vane's feelings were somewhat mixed, but contempt figured prominently among them. He could find no fault with Chisholm's desire to safeguard his daughter's future, but he was convinced that the man looked for more than this. He felt that he had been favored with a delicate hint to which his companion expected an answer. He was sorry for Evelyn, and was ashamed of the position he was forced to take.

"Well," he replied curtly, "you need not be concerned about the loan; I'm not likely to prove a pressing creditor. To go a little farther, I should naturally take an interest in the welfare of my wife's relatives. I don't think I can say anything more in the meanwhile."

When he saw Chisholm's smile, he felt that he might have spoken more plainly without offense; but the elder man looked satisfied.

"Those are the views I expected you to hold," he declared. "I believe that Mrs. Chisholm will share my gratification if you find Evelyn disposed to listen to you."

Vane left him shortly afterward with a sense of shame. He felt that he had bought the girl, and that, if she ever heard of it, she would find it hard to forgive him for the course he had taken. When he met Carroll he was frowning.

"I've had a talk with Chisholm," he said. "It has upset my temper--I feel mean! There's no doubt that you were right."

Carroll's smile showed that he could guess what was in his comrade's mind.

"I shouldn't worry too much about the thing. The girl probably understands the situation. It's not altogether pleasant, but I dare say she's more or less resigned to it. She can't help herself."

Vane gazed at him with anger.

"Does that make it any better? Is it any comfort to me?"

"Take her out of it. If she has any liking for you, she'll thank you for doing so."

Vane strode away, and n.o.body saw him again for an hour or two. In the afternoon, however, at Mrs. Chisholm's suggestion, he and Carroll set out with the girls for a hill beyond the tarn.

It was a perfect day of late autumn. A pale golden haze softened the rugged outlines of crag and fell, which towered in purple ma.s.ses against a sky of stainless azure. Warm sunshine flooded the valley, glowing on the gold and crimson that flecked the lower beech sprays and turning the leaves of the brambles to points of ruby flame. Here and there white limestone ridges flung back the light, and the tarn gleamed like molten silver when a faint puff of wind traced a dark blue smear athwart its surface. The winding road was thick with dust, and a deep stillness brooded over everything.

By and by, however, a couple of whip-cracks rose from beyond a dip of the road and were followed by a shout in a woman's voice and a sharp clatter of iron on stone.

"Oh!" cried Mabel, when they reached the brow of the descent, "the poor thing can't get up! What a shame to give it such a load!"

The road fell sharply between ragged hedgerows, and near the foot of the hill a pony was struggling vainly to move a cart. The vehicle was heavily loaded, and while the animal strained and floundered, a woman struck it with a whip.

"Its Mrs. Hoggarth; her husband's the carrier," Mabel explained. "Come on! We must stop her! She mustn't beat the pony like that!"

Vane strode down the hill, and when they approached the cart Mabel called indignantly to the woman.

"Stop! You oughtn't to do that! The load's too heavy! Where's Hoggarth?"

Vane seized one rein close up to the bit and turned the pony until the cart was across the road. When he had done so, the woman looked around at Mabel.

"Wheel went over his foot last night. He canna get on his boot. I'm none fond of beating pony, but bank's steep and we mun gan up. The folks mun have their things."

Vane glanced at the pony, which stood with lowered head and heaving flank. It was evident that the animal could do no more.

"There's only one way out of the trouble," he said. "We must pack some of this truck to the top. What's in those bags?"

"One's oats," answered the woman. "It's four bushel. Other one's linseed cake. Those slates for Bell's new stable are the heaviest."

Carroll came up with Evelyn just then, and Vane spoke to him.

"Come here and help me with this bag!"

They had it ready at the back of the cart in a few moments, and Evelyn, who knew that a four-bushel bag of oats is difficult to move, was astonished at the ease with which they handled it. Vane got the bag upon his back and walked up the hill with it. The veins stood out on his forehead and his face grew red, but he plodded steadily on and came back for another load.

"I'll take an armful of the slates this time, Carroll. You can tackle the cake."

The cake was heavy, though the bag was not full, and when they returned, Carroll was breathing hard and there were smears of blood on one of Vane's hands. The old woman gazed at him in amazed admiration.