"The reception room's plumb full," announced the maid, who was lately from the bush. "If any more folks come along, I sure won't know where to put 'em."
Now that the door was open, Evelyn could hear a murmur of voices on the floor below, and the next moment the bell rang violently again. It struck her as a testimonial to the injured man. Vane had not spent a long time in Vancouver, but he had the gift of making friends. Having heard of the sloop's arrival, they had come to inquire for him, and there was obviously a number of them.
Mrs. Nairn glanced interrogatively at Carroll.
"It does no look as if they could be got rid of by a message."
"I guess he's fit to see them," Carroll answered, "We'll hold a levee. If he'd only let me, I'd like to pose him a bit."
Mrs. Nairn, with Evelyn's assistance, did so instead, rearranging the cushions about the man, in spite of his confused and half-indignant protests; and during the next half-hour the room was generally full.
People walked in, made sympathetic inquiries, or exchanged cheerful banter, until Mrs. Nairn forcibly dismissed the last of them. After this, she declared that Vane must go to sleep, and paying no heed to his assertion that he had not the least wish to do so, she led her remaining companions away.
A couple of hours had passed when she handed Evelyn a large tumbler containing a preparation of beaten eggs and milk.
"Ye might take him this and ask if he would like anything else," she said. "I'm weary of the stairs and I would no trust Minnie. She's handiest at spilling things."
Carroll grinned.
"It's the third and, I'd better say firmly, the limit."
Then he assumed an aggrieved expression as Evelyn moved off with the tray.
"I can't see why I couldn't have gone. I think I've discharged my duties as nurse satisfactorily."
"I canna help ye thinking," Mrs. Nairn informed him. "But I would point out that ye have now and then been wrong."
"That's a fact," Carroll confessed.
Evelyn fully shared his suspicions. Her hostess's artifice was a transparent one, but she nevertheless fell in with it. She had seen Vane only in the company of others; this might be the same again to-morrow; and there was something to be said. By intuition as much as reason, she recognized that there was something working in his mind; something that troubled him and might trouble her. It excited her apprehension and animated her with a desire to combat it. That she might be compelled to follow an unconventional course did not matter. She knew this man was hers--and she could not let him go.
She entered his room collectedly. He was lying, neatly dressed, upon a couch with his shoulders raised against the end of it, for he had thrown the cushions which supported him upon the floor. As she came in, he leaned down in an attempt to recover them, and finding himself too late looked up guiltily. The fact that he could move with so much freedom was a comfort to the girl. She set the tray down on a table near him.
"Mrs. Nairn has sent you this," she said, and the laugh they both indulged in drew them together.
Then her mood changed and her heart yearned over him. He had gone away a strong, self-confident, prosperous man, and he had come back defeated, broken in fortune and terribly worn. Her pity shone in her softening eyes.
"Do you wish to sleep?" she asked.
"No," Vane assured her; "I'd a good deal rather talk to you."
"I want to say something," Evelyn confessed. "I'm afraid I was rather unpleasant to you the evening before you sailed. I was sorry for it afterward; it was flagrant injustice."
"Then I wonder why you didn't answer the letter I wrote at Nanaimo."
"The letter? I never received one."
Vane considered this for a few moments.
"After all," he declared, "it doesn't matter now. I'm acquitted?"
"Absolutely."
The man's satisfaction was obvious, but he smiled.
"Do you know," he said, "I've still no idea of my offense?"
Evelyn was exceedingly glad to hear it, but a warmth crept into her face, and as the blood showed through the delicate skin he fixed his eyes upon her intently.
"It was all a mistake; I'm sorry still," she murmured penitently.
"Oh!" he exclaimed in a different tone. "Don't trouble about it. The satisfaction of being acquitted outweighs everything else. Besides, I've made a number of rather serious mistakes myself. The search for that spruce, for instance, is supposed to be one."
"No," returned Evelyn decidedly; "whoever thinks that, is wrong. It is a very fine thing you have done. It doesn't matter in the least that you were unsuccessful."
"Do you really believe that?"
"Of course. How could I believe anything else?"
The man's face changed again, and once more she read the signs. Whatever doubts and half-formed resolutions--and she had some idea of them--had been working in his mind were dissipating.
"Well," he continued, "I've sacrificed the best half of my possessions and have destroyed the confidence of the people who, to serve their ends, would have helped me on. Isn't that a serious thing?"
"No; it's really a most unimportant one. I"--the slight pause gave the assertion force--"really mean it."
Vane partly raised himself with one arm and there was no doubting the significance of his intent gaze.
"I believe I made another blunder--in England. I should have had more courage and have faced the risk. But you might have turned against me then."
"I don't think that's likely," Evelyn murmured, lowering her eyes.
The man leaned forward eagerly, but the hand he stretched out fell short, and the trivial fact once more roused her compassion for his helplessness.
"You can mean only one thing!" he cried. "You wouldn't be afraid to face the future with me now?"
"I wouldn't be afraid at all."
A half-hour later Mrs. Nairn tapped at the door and smiled rather broadly when she came in. Then she shook her head reproachfully.
"Ye should have been asleep a while since," she scolded Vane, and then turned to Evelyn. "Is this the way ye intend to look after him?"
She waved the girl toward the door and when she joined her in the passage she kissed her effusively.
"Ye have got the man I would have chosen ye," she declared. "It will no be any fault of his if ye are sorry."
"I have very little fear of that," laughed Evelyn.
THE END