Part 12

“I thought he was. He seems to me an energetic man, who knows his work, and is not afraid to look after it himself.”

“That's just it. He has got absurd ideas of co-operating with his workmen, you know, and doing everything slowly and on a limited scale. The only thing to be done is to buy up all the land on this ridge, run off the settlers, freeze out all the other mills, and put it into a big San Francisco company on shares. That's the only way we would look at it.”

“But you don't consider the investment bad, even from HIS point of view?”

“Perhaps not.”

“And you only decline it because it isn't big enough for the Bank?”

“Exactly.”

“Richardson,” said Mainwaring, slowly rising, putting his hands in his trousers pockets, and suddenly looking down upon the banker from the easy level of habitual superiority, “I wish you'd attend to this thing for me. I desire to make some return to Mr. Bradley for his kindness. I wish to give him what help he wants--in his own way--you understand. I wish it, and I believe my father wishes it, too. If you'd like him to write to you to that effect--”

“By no means, it's not at all necessary,” said Richardson, dropping with equal suddenness into his old-world obsequiousness. “I shall certainly do as you wish. It is not a bad investment, Mr. Mainwaring, and as you suggest, a very proper return for their kindness. And, being here, it will come quite naturally for me to take up the affair again.”

“And--I say, Richardson.”

“Yes, sir?”

“As these ladies are rather short-handed in their domestic service, you know, perhaps you'd better not stay to luncheon or dinner, but go on to the Summit House--it's only a mile or two farther--and come back here this evening. I shan't want you until then.”

“Certainly!” stammered Richardson. “I'll just take leave of the ladies!”

“It's not at all necessary,” said Mainwaring, quietly; “you would only disturb them in their household duties. I'll tell them what I've done with you, if they ask. You'll find your stick and hat in the passage, and you can leave the veranda by these steps. By the way, you had better manage at the Summit to get some one to bring my traps from here to be forwarded to Sacramento to-morrow. I'll want a conveyance, or a horse of some kind, myself, for I've given up walking for a while; but we can settle about that to-night. Come early. Good morning?”

He accompanied his thoroughly subjugated countryman--who, however, far from attempting to reassert himself, actually seemed easier and more cheerful in his submission--to the end of the veranda, and watched him depart. As he turned back, he saw the pretty figure of Louise Macy leaning against the doorway. How graceful and refined she looked in that simple morning dress! What wonder that she was admired by Greyson, by Johnson, and by that Spaniard!--no, by Jove, it was SHE that wanted to marry him!

“What have you sent away Mr. Richardson for?” asked the young girl, with a half-reproachful, half-mischievous look in her bright eyes.

“I packed him off because I thought it was a little too hard on you and Mrs. Bradley to entertain him without help.”

“But as he was OUR guest, you might have left that to us,” said Miss Macy.

“By Jove! I never thought of that,” said Mainwaring, coloring in consternation. “Pray forgive me, Miss Macy--but you see I knew the man, and could say it, and you couldn't.”

“Well, I forgive you, for you look really so cut up,” said Louise, laughing. “But I don't know what Jenny will say of your disposing of her conquest so summarily.” She stopped and regarded him more attentively. “Has he brought you any bad news? if so, it's a pity you didn't send him away before. He's quite spoiling our cure.”

Mainwaring thought bitterly that he had. “But it's a cure for all that, Miss Macy,” he said, with an attempt at cheerfulness, “and being a cure, you see, there's no longer an excuse for my staying here. I have been making arrangements for leaving here to-morrow.”

“So soon?”

“Do you think it soon, Miss Macy?” asked Mainwaring, turning pale in spite of himself.

“I quite forgot--that you were here as an invalid only, and that we owe our pleasure to the accident of your pain.”

She spoke a little artificially, he thought, yet her cheeks had not lost their pink bloom, nor her eyes their tranquillity. Had he heard Minty's criticism he might have believed that the organic omission noticed by her was a fact.

“And now that your good work as Sister of Charity is completed, you'll be able to enter the world of gayety again with a clear conscience,” said Mainwaring, with a smile that he inwardly felt was a miserable failure. “You'll be able to resume your morning rides, you know, which the wretched invalid interrupted.”

Louise raised her clear eyes to his, without reproach, indignation, or even wonder. He felt as if he had attempted an insult and failed.

“Does my cousin know you are going so soon?” she asked finally.

“No, I did not know myself until to-day. You see,” he added hastily, while his honest blood blazoned the lie in his cheek, “I've heard of some miserable business affairs that will bring me back to England sooner that I expected.”