“Now that I’ve told you,” he said quietly, as he rose, “I think I’ll go. I am sure you’d rather be alone.”
“No,” she answered, motioning to him to sit down. “Please stay.” She seemed to rouse herself with an effort. “Of course, there was only one thing George could do when he was lamed—send them on. But Clarence, who was with him, never made his fortitude and cheerfulness so clear as you have done. You even mentioned the exact words he said now and then—how did you hear of them?”
“From my companion, a young Canadian. He had the whole thing by heart; got it from the Hudson Bay agent. George’s guide told the agent.”
“Did your companion also teach you how to tell the story?”
Nasmyth smiled. He saw that she was desirous of changing the subject and he was glad of it.
“Anyway, he made me see it at the time; pointed out the full significance of things—a broken branch, a scratch on a rock. A rather striking man in several ways. But you shall see him; he’s coming over to stay with me by and by.” He paused a moment. “I understand that Clarence has been having some trouble.”
“It hardly amounts to that. But things are not the same as they were”—in spite of her courage she faltered—“when George held control. The tenants don’t take to Clarence; I think he was not well advised in increasing rents here and there. Indeed, that was a little puzzling, because he was once so liberal.”
“In small matters; it’s his own money now.” Nasmyth could not repress this show of bitterness.
“Whose money was it in his extravagant days?”
“That’s a question I’ve thought over and failed to find an answer to. I’ve no doubt most of what he gets is now being spent in town, though in my opinion as much as possible ought to go back to the locality in which it was produced. Why don’t you impress that on him?”