“I’m afraid I am,” said Evelyn, with the colour creeping into her face, as she remembered an instance in which she had condemned another person hastily.
“In this case,” said her companion, “ye were very foolish. The man came down for help, and if he could not get it, he would go back his lone; if all the way was barred with ice and he must walk on his naked feet. Love of woman’s strong and the fear of death is keen, but ye will find now and then a faith between man and man that neither would sever.” She paused and looked at the girl fixedly as she asked: “What of him that could inspire it?”
Evelyn did not answer. She had never seen her hostess in this mood, and she was also stirred; but the elder lady went on again: “The virtue of a gift lies in part, but no altogether, with the giver. Whiles, it may be bestowed unworthily, but I’m thinking it’s no often. The bond that will drag Carroll back to the North again, to his death if it is needful, has no been spun from nothing.”
Evelyn had no doubt that Mrs. Nairn was right. Loyalty, most often, demanded a worthy object to tender service to; it sprang from implicit confidence, mutual respect, and strong appreciation. It was not without a reason Vane had inspired it in his comrade’s breast; and this was the man she had condemned. The latter fact, however, was by comparison a very minor trouble. Vane was lying, helpless and alone, in the snowy wilderness, in peril of his life, and she knew that she loved him. She realised now, when it might be too late, that had he in reality been stained with dishonour, she could have forgiven him. Indeed, it had only been by a painful effort she had maintained some show of composure since Carroll had brought the disastrous news and she felt she could not keep it up much longer.
What she said to Mrs. Nairn she could not remember, but escaping from her, she retired to her own room, to lie still and grapple with an agony of fear and contrition.
It was two hours later when she went down and found Carroll, who still looked drowsy, about to go out. His hostess had left him for a moment in the hall, and meeting the girl’s eyes, he smiled at her reassuringly.
“Don’t be anxious; I’ll bring him back,” he said.
Then Mrs. Nairn appeared, and in a few moments Carroll went out without another word to Evelyn. She did not ask herself why he had taken it for granted that she would be anxious; she was beyond any petty regard for appearances. It was consoling to remember that he was Vane’s tried comrade; one of the men who kept their word.
[CHAPTER XXIX—JESSIE’S CONTRITION.]
After leaving Mrs. Nairn, Carroll walked towards Horsfield’s residence in a thoughtful mood, because he felt it incumbent upon him to play a part he was not particularly fitted for in a somewhat delicate matter. Uncongenial as his task was, it was one which could not be left to Vane, who was even less to be trusted with the handling of such affairs; and Carroll had resolved, as he would have described it, to straighten out things.