CHAPTER XXVII

THE FORCE OF CALUMNY

As Hallam had surmised, one or two affairs of importance detained Alton in Vancouver.  The winter had been exceptionally rigorous, and he knew that the claim was guarded securely by frost and snow.  Having also, he fancied, effectually silenced his indiscreet visitor by flinging him down-stairs, he thought no more about that affair, and spent one or two evenings pleasantly at Forel’s house, where Alice Deringham greeted him with slightly reserved cordiality.

She fancied she understood his reticence on the memorable evening when he had stumbled on the stairway, and was not altogether displeased by it.  He had, it seemed, been over-sensitive, for he was but slightly lame, while she had reasons for surmising that he would realize there was no great necessity for the self-sacrifice in time.  Alice Deringham was not unduly vain, but she knew her power, and Alton had in his silence betrayed himself again and again.  Still, it seemed only fitting that he should make the first advances, now the moment when she might have done so had passed.  She also fancied she understood the motive which prompted his answer when her father spoke to him respecting Carnaby.

“I can’t go over now,” he said.  “Your lawyers and agents can look after the place a little longer, and I needn’t worry if you’re content with them.  Anyway, all of it does not belong to me and we will see what we can fix up between us when I go over by and by.”

This was pleasant hearing to Deringham, who commenced to hope that he would be able to give a satisfactory account of his stewardship when the time came, and winced at the recollection of the folly which had placed him in Hallam’s grasp.  Of late his health had given way again, and that served as an excuse for remaining at Vancouver, which he had scarcely the courage to leave.

Affairs were in this condition when Miss Deringham sat listening to the conversation of other visitors in the house of a friend of Mrs. Forel’s one afternoon.  Now and then a veiled allusion reached her, and at last she glanced inquiringly at her hostess.

The lady smiled deprecatingly and shook her head.  “It is really indiscreet of Helen, but she seems to believe it is true,” she said.  “These things do happen, even in the old country.”

Alice Deringham laughed.  “I am afraid I cannot controvert you if that is uncomplimentary, because I don’t know what you are alluding to.”

Her hostess looked thoughtful.  “Then you haven’t heard it yet?” she said.  “Well, I am not the one to tell you, and it is quite possible they haven’t got the story correctly.”

Miss Deringham was interested, but she asked no more questions, and had changed her place when she once more heard a subdued voice she recognized behind a great lacquered screen.

“One would be sorry for Hettie Forel, but her husband was always a little unguarded.  Opened his house to everybody, you know.”