CHAPTER XXII
THE GIRL AND THE MAN
It was a clear winter afternoon and the sunshine that entered a window of the big hall at Hazlehurst fell upon Millicent as she sat in one of the recesses reading a book. Blake thought she looked very beautiful. As she raised her eyes and caught sight of him she started, and, dropping the book, she rose with a tingle of heightened color, while Blake felt his heart beat fast. Thrown off her guard as she had been, he caught the gladness in her eyes before she could hide it.
"You are surprised at my turning up?" he asked, holding her hand an unnecessarily long time and smiling into her eyes.
The color was still in Millicent's cheeks and she was conscious of an unusual shyness; but she tried to answer naturally.
"I knew that Colonel Challoner had given orders for you to be traced, if possible, and I knew that you had been found; but that was all Mrs. Keith told me. I suppose she didn't know—didn't think, I mean—that I was interested."
"I shall believe that was very foolish of her," Blake said softly, with a question in his voice.
Millicent smiled.
"It really was foolish. But you must have some tea and wait until she comes. I don't think she will be long. She has gone out with Mrs. Foster."
The tea was brought in and Millicent studied Blake unobtrusively as he sat opposite her at the small table. He had grown thin, his bronzed face was worn, and he looked graver. She could not imagine his ever becoming very solemn, but it was obvious that something had happened in Canada which had had its effects on him.
Looking up suddenly, Blake surprised her attentive glance.
"You have changed," she said.
"That's not astonishing," Blake laughed. "We didn't get much to eat in the wilds, and I was thinking how pleasant it is to be back again." He examined his prettily decorated cup. "It's remarkable how many things one can do without. In the bush, we drank our tea, when we had any, out of a blackened can, and the rest of our table equipment was similar. But we'll take it that the change in me is an improvement?"
It was an excuse for looking at her, as if demanding a reply, but she answered readily.
"In a sense, it is."
"Then I feel encouraged to continue starving myself."
"There's a limit; extremes are to be avoided. But did you starve yourselves in Canada?"
"I must confess that the thing wasn't altogether voluntary. I'm afraid we were rather gluttonous when we got the chance."
He smiled, but Millicent's eyes were full of compassion.
"Did you find what you were looking for?" she asked softly.
"No; I think it was a serious disappointment for Harding, and I was very sorry for him at first."
"So am I," Millicent responded. "It must have been very hard, after leaving his wife alone and badly provided for and risking everything on his success. But why did you say you were sorry for him? Aren't you sorry now?"
"Though we didn't find what we were looking for, we found something else which Harding seems firmly convinced is quite as valuable. Of course, he's a bit of an optimist, but it looks as if he were right this time. Anyway, I'm plunging on his scheme."
"You mean you will stake all you have on it?"
"Yes," Blake answered with a humorous twinkle. "It's true that what I have doesn't amount to much, but I'm throwing in what I should like to get—and that's a great deal."
Millicent noticed his expression suddenly grow serious.
"Tell me about your adventures up in that wilderness," she begged.
"Oh," he protested, "they're really not interesting."
"Let me judge. Is it nothing to have gone where other men seldom venture?"
He began rather awkwardly, but she prompted him with tactful questions, and he saw that she wished to hear his story. By degrees he lost himself in his subject, and, being gifted with keen imagination, she followed his journey into the wilds. It was not his wish to represent himself as a hero, and now and then he spoke with deprecatory humor, but he betrayed something of his character in doing justice to his theme. Millicent's eyes sparkled as she listened, for she found the story moving; he was the man she had thought him, capable of grim endurance, determined action, and steadfast loyalty.
"So you carried your crippled comrade when you were exhausted and starving," she exclaimed, when he came to their search for the factory. "One likes to hear of such things as that! But what would you have done if you hadn't found the post?"
"I can't answer," he said soberly. "We didn't dare think, of it: a starving man's will gets weak." Then his expression grew whimsical. "Besides, if one must be accurate, we dragged him."
"Still," said Millicent softly, "I can't think you would have left him."
Something in her voice made Blake catch his breath. She looked very alluring as she sat there with the last of the sunshine sprinkling gold over her hair and her face and her light gown. He leaned forward quickly; and then he remembered his disgrace.
"I'm flattered, Miss Graham," he said; "but you really haven't very strong grounds for your confidence in me."
"Please go on with your story," Millicent begged, disregarding his remark. "How long did you stay at the factory?"
Blake told of their journey back, of the days when starvation faced them, and of the blizzard, though he made no reference to Clarke's treachery; and Millicent listened with close attention. It grew dark but they forgot to ring for lights; neither of them heard the door open when he was near the conclusion, nor saw Mrs. Keith, entering quietly with Mrs. Foster, stop a moment in surprise. The room was shadowy, but Mrs. Keith could see the man leaning forward with an arm on the table and the girl listening with intent face. There was something that pleased her in the scene.
As Mrs. Keith moved forward, Millicent looked up quickly and Blake rose.
"So you have come back!" Mrs. Keith said. "How was it you didn't go straight to Sandymere, where your uncle is eagerly awaiting you?"
"I sent him a cablegram just before I sailed, but on landing I found there was an earlier train. As he won't expect me for another two hours, I thought I'd like to pay my respects to you."
Mrs. Keith smiled as she glanced at Millicent.
"Well, I'm flattered," she responded; "and, as it happens, I have something to say to you."
Mrs. Foster joined them, and it was some time before Mrs. Keith had a chance to take Blake into the empty drawing-room.
"I'm glad you have come home," she said abruptly. "I think you are needed."
"That," replied Blake, "is how it seemed to me."
His quietness was reassuring. Mrs. Keith knew that he was to be trusted, but she felt some misgivings about supporting him in a line of action that would cost him much. Still, she could not be deterred by compassionate scruples when there was an opportunity for saving her old friend from suffering. Troubled by a certain sense of guilt, but determined, she tried to test his feelings.
"You didn't find waiting for us tedious," she said lightly. "I suppose you and Millicent were deep in your adventures when we came in—playing Othello and Desdemona."
Blake laughed.
"As you compare me to the Moor, you must admit that I have never pretended to be less black than I'm painted."
"Ah!" Mrs. Keith exclaimed with marked gentleness. "You needn't pretend to me, Dick. I have my own opinion about you. I knew you would come home as soon as you could be found."
"Then you must know what has been going on in my absence."
"I have a strong suspicion. Your uncle has been hard pressed by unscrupulous people with an end to gain. How much impression they have made on him I cannot tell; but he's fond of you, Dick, and in trouble. It's a cruel position for an honorable man with traditions like those of the Challoners' behind him."
"That's true; I hate to think of it. You know what I owe to him and
Bertram."
"He's old," continued Mrs. Keith. "It would be a great thing if he could be allowed to spend his last years in quietness. I fear that's impossible, although perhaps to some extent it lies in your hands." She looked steadily at Blake. "Now that you have come back, what do you mean to do?"
"Whatever is needful; I'm for the defense. The Colonel's position can't be stormed while I'm on guard; and this time there'll be no retreat."
"Don't add that, Dick; it hurts me. I'm not so hard as I sometimes pretend. I never doubted your staunchness; but I wonder whether you quite realize what the defense may cost you. Have you thought about your future?"
"You ought to know that the Blakes never think of the future. We're a happy-go-lucky, irresponsible lot."
"But suppose you wished to marry?"
"It's a difficulty that has already been pointed out. If I ever marry, the girl I choose will believe in me in spite of appearances. In fact, she'll have to: I have no medals and decorations to bring her."
"You have much that's worth more!" Mrs. Keith declared warmly, moved by his steadfastness. "Still, it's a severe test for any girl." She laid her hand gently on his arm. "In the end, you won't regret the course you mean to take. I have lived a long while and have lost many pleasant illusions, but I believe that loyalty like yours has its reward. I loved you for your mother's sake when you were a boy; afterward when things looked blackest I kept my faith in you, and now I'm proud that I did so."
Blake looked confused.
"Confidence like yours is an embarrassing gift. It makes one feel that one must live up to it; and that isn't easy."
Mrs. Keith regarded him affectionately.
"It's yours, Dick; given without reserve. But I think there's nothing more to be said; and the Colonel will be expecting you."
They moved toward the hall as she spoke; and when Blake had gone Mrs. Keith looked searchingly at Millicent. The girl's face shone with a happiness which she could not conceal: she knew that Blake loved her; and she knew, too, that she loved Blake; but she was not ready to admit this to Mrs. Keith.