Leyland, I fancied, had not previously noticed that Miss Haldane was seated on a fallen log close beside us, and in the circumstances I was by no means pleased when he turned to her. "Don't you think everybody should make the most of all that's in them?" he asked.
Somewhat to my surprise the girl looked straight at me as she answered: "Considering the question in the abstract, I agree with you. It seems to me the duty of every man with talents to take the place he was meant for among his peers instead of frittering them away."
There was an unusual earnestness in what she said, which both surprised me and reminded me of the days in England; for Beatrice Haldane's conversation had latterly been marked by a somewhat cynical languidness. Nevertheless, the inference nettled me.
"Talent is a somewhat vague term; but suppose any unprofessional person possessed it, what career among the thick of his fellows would you recommend—the acquisition of money on the markets, or politics? Both are closed to the poor man," I said.
It may have been fancy, but a faint angry sparkle seemed to creep into Miss Haldane's eyes as she answered: "Are there no others? It seems to me the place for such a person is where civilization moves fastest in the cities. Whether we progress towards good or evil you cannot move back the times, and it is force of intellect, or successful scheming if you will, which commands the best the world can offer now. As an outside observer, it seems to me that, considering the tendency towards centralization and combinations of capital, the individual who, refusing to accept the altered conditions, insists on remaining an independent unit, must soon go under or take a helot's place. Don't you think so, Mr. Leyland?"
"That's what I mean, but you have put it more clearly," said Leyland approvingly. "I was hoping Ormesby might see it that way."
Understanding my host's manner I guessed that if I hinted at acquiescence this would lead up to a definite offer, and it appeared that both, in their own way, were bent on persuading me. The temptation was alluring, when disaster appeared imminent, and I afterwards wondered how it was I did not yield. Wounded pride or sheer obstinacy may, however, have restrained me, for one of the most bitter things is to own one's self beaten; but even then I felt that my place was on the prairie. On the one hand there was only the prospect of grinding care and often brutal labor, which wore the body to exhaustion and blunted the mental faculties; on the other, at least some rest and leisure, contact with culture and refinement, and perhaps even yet a vague possibility of drawing nearer to the woman beside me. At that moment, however, Lucille Haldane halted in front of us, and the trifling incident helped to turn the scale. Young as she was, her views were mine, and for some unfathomable reason I shook off what seemed a weak tendency to yield when I met her gaze.
"It will be a bad day for the Dominion when what is happening across the frontier becomes general here," I said. "It is the number of independent units which makes for the real prosperity of this country, and the suggestion that there is only scope for intellect and force of will in the cities can hardly pass unchallenged. The smallest wheat grower has to use the same foresight in his degree as a railroad financier, and it probably requires more stamina to hold out against bad seasons and the oppression of scheming land-grabbers than is requisite, say, in engineering a grain corner against adverse markets. Then, if one gets back to principles, does it not appear that the poorest breaker of virgin land who calls wheat up out of the idle sod is of more use to the community than the gambler in his produce who creates nothing?"
"There is no use arguing with any man who thinks that way," said Leyland solemnly, and Beatrice Haldane laughed; but whether at his comment or at my opinion did not appear.
"Here is an ally for you. You are looking very wise, Lucille," she said languidly.