CHAPTER XIII
A TEST OF LOYALTY
It was during a brief respite from his task, which had been suspended, waiting the arrival of certain tools and material, that Thurston accompanied Savine and Helen to a semi-public gathering at the house of a man who was a power in the Mountain Province just outside Vancouver. Politicians, land-speculators, railroad and shipping magnates were present with their wives and daughters, and most of them had a word for Savine or a glance of admiration for Helen.
Savine moved among guests chatting with the brilliancy which occasionally characterized him, and always puzzled Thurston.
Thurston was rarely troubled by petty jealousies, but the homage all men paid to Helen awoke an unpleasant apprehension within him. He did not know many of the men and women who laughed and talked in animated groups; and at length found himself seated alone in a quiet corner. The ground floor of the rambling house consisted of various rooms, some of which opened with archways into one another. He could see into the one most crowded, where Helen formed the center of an admiring circle. There was no doubt that Miss Savine owed much to the race from which she sprang on her mother's side. Dark beauty, grace of movement, and, when she chose to indulge in it, vivacious speech, all betokened a Latin extraction, while the slight haughtiness, which Thurston thought wonderfully became her, was the dowry of a line of autocratic landowners. That she was pleasant to look upon was proved by the convincing testimony of other men's admiration as well as by his own senses. Now, when the distance between them was in some respects diminishing, she seemed even further away from him. In her presence he felt himself a plain, unpolished man, and knew he would never shine in the light play of wit and satire which characterized the society for which she was fitted. He decided, also, that she had probably remained unmarried because she could find no one who came up to her standard, and feared that he himself would come very far beneath it. It appeared doubtful that he could ever acquire the gentler virtues Helen had described. Nevertheless, his face grew set as he determined that he could prove his loyalty in the manner that best suited him—by serving her father faithfully.
A capitalist, for whom Geoffrey had undertaken several commissions, halted before him.
"Hello! Quite alone, Thurston, and worrying over something as usual," he began, with Western brusqueness. "What has gone wrong? Have more of your dams burst, up yonder? One would fancy that floundering around through the ice and snow up there would be more congenial than these frivolities. I'm not great on them either, but it's a matter of dollars and cents with me. You perhaps know a little about this self-made—that's your British term, I think—company."
"Not so much as you do," answered Geoffrey. "Still, I have been wondering how some of the men earned their money. I understand that they have sense enough to be proud of their small beginnings, but they do not furnish instructive details as to the precise manner in which they achieved their success."
The capitalist, who was one of the class described, laughed good-humoredly, as he seated himself beside Thurston.