The moonlight was on Millicent’s face, and Bella, watching her, read something that roused her interest in its expression—it was stronger than satisfaction, a deeper feeling not unmixed with pride. She had called and the man she had summoned from the depths of the wilderness had responded.
A few minutes later the canoe grounded noisily on the shingle and Crestwick leaped out; Bella, regardless of the others, flung her arms about his neck and kissed him; and then she held him off so that she might see him. His garments were rent and tattered, his face was very lean, and one of his hands was bleeding from continuous labor with the paddle.
“Oh!” she cried; “you disreputable scarecrow! You’re not fit for select society. And how long is it since you had anything to eat?”
“We had a rather rough time getting through; there was thick scrub timber in some of the valleys,” Crestwick explained. “We might have made things easier by spending another few days on the trail, but Lisle wouldn’t listen when I suggested it.”
“Then you did suggest it,” said Bella reproachfully. “Of course, I’m merely your sister.”
“I don’t want a better one,” Crestwick rejoined, grinning. “It strikes me you’re looking prettier than you did; but that’s perhaps because you have taken to wearing more ladylike clothes. As regards my appearance, I’ll venture to say that yours will be very much the same before you’ve finished this journey.”
Lisle had walked toward Miss Hume and had shaken hands with her before he turned to Millicent. That pleased the girl.
“We ran it rather close, but the day isn’t quite finished yet,” he laughed. “We had some little trouble once or twice which prevented our turning up earlier.”
Millicent smiled in a manner that sent a thrill through him.
“I can only say that we kept your supper; but that’s significant, isn’t it?” Then she called to Nasmyth.