Ranching for Sylvia | Page 5

think he is looking?"
George knew she was addicted to displaying a needless anxiety about her husband's health. It had struck him that Herbert was getting stouter; but he now remembered having noticed a hint of care in his face.
"The rest will do him good," he said.
Mrs. Lansing's conversation was often disconnected, and she now changed the subject.
"Herbert tells me you are going to Canada. As you're fond of the open air, you will enjoy it."
"I suppose so," George assented rather dubiously.
"Of course, it's very generous, and Sylvia's fortunate in having you to look after things"--Mrs. Lansing paused before adding--"but are you altogether wise in going, George?"
Lansing knew that his hostess loved romance, and sometimes attempted to assist in one, but he would have preferred another topic.
"I don't see what else I could do," he said.
"That's hardly an answer. You will forgive me for speaking plainly, but what I meant was this--your devotion to Sylvia is not a secret."
"I wish it were!" George retorted. "But I don't intend to deny it."
His companion looked at him reproachfully.
"Don't get restive; I've your best interests at heart. You're a little too confiding and too backward, George. Sylvia slipped through your fingers once before."
George's brown face colored deeply. He was angry, but Mrs. Lansing was not to be deterred.
"Take a hint and stay at home," she went on. "It might pay you better."
"And let Sylvia's property be sacrificed?"
"Yes, if necessary." She looked at him directly. "You have means enough."
He struggled with his indignation. Sylvia hated poverty, and it had been suggested that he should turn the fact to his advantage. The idea that she might be more willing to marry him if she were poor was most unpleasant.
"Sylvia's favor is not to be bought," he said.
Mrs. Lansing's smile was half impatient.
"Oh, well, if you're bent on going, there's nothing to be said. Sylvia, of course, will stay with us."
The arrangement was a natural one, as Sylvia was a relative of hers; but George failed to notice that her expression grew thoughtful as she glanced toward where Sylvia was sitting with a man upon whom the soldier stamp was plainly set. George followed her gaze and frowned, but he said nothing, and his companion presently moved away. Soon afterward he crossed the lawn and joined a girl who waited for him. Ethel West was tall and strongly made. She was characterized by a keen intelligence and bluntness of speech. Being an old friend of George's, she occasionally assumed the privilege of one.
"I hear you are going to Canada. What is taking you there again?" she asked.
"I am going to look after some farming property, for one thing."
Ethel regarded him with amusement.
"Sylvia Marston's, I suppose?"
"Yes," George answered rather shortly.
"Then what's the other purpose you have in view?"
George hesitated.
"I'm not sure I have another motive."
"So I imagined. You're rather an exceptional man--in some respects."
"If that's true, I wasn't aware of it," George retorted.
Ethel laughed.
"It's hardly worth while to prove my statement; we'll talk of something else. Has Herbert told you anything about his business since you came back? I suppose you have noticed signs of increased prosperity?"
"I'm afraid I'm not observant, and Herbert isn't communicative."
"Perhaps he's wise. Still, the fact that he's putting up a big new orchard-house has some significance. I understand from Stephen that he's been speculating largely in rubber shares. It's a risky game."
"I suppose it is," George agreed. "But it's most unlikely that Herbert will come to grief. He has a very long head; I believe he could, for example, buy and sell me."
"That wouldn't be very difficult. I suspect Herbert isn't the only one of your acquaintances who is capable of doing as much."
Her eyes followed Sylvia, who was then walking across the grass. Sylvia's movements were always graceful, and she had now a subdued, pensive air that rendered her appearance slightly pathetic. Ethel's face, however, grew quietly scornful. She knew what Sylvia's forlorn and helpless look was worth.
"I'm not afraid that anybody will try," George replied.
"Your confidence is admirable." laughed Ethel; "but I mustn't appear too cynical, and I've a favor to ask. Will you take Edgar out with you?"
George felt a little surprised. Edgar was her brother, a lad of somewhat erratic habits and ideas, who had been at Oxford when George last heard of him.
"Yes, if he wants to go, and Stephen approves," he said; for Stephen, the lawyer, was an elder brother, and the Wests had lost their parents.
"He will be relieved to get him off his hands for a while; but Edgar will be over to see you during the afternoon. He's spending a week or two with the Charltons."
"I remember that young Charlton and he were close acquaintances."
"That was the excuse for the visit; but you had better understand that there was a certain amount of friction