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Page 49
XIX
In those ten days all the wonders of June came up out of the south.
Life pulsed with a new and vibrant force. The crimson fire-flowers,
first of wild blooms to come after snow and frost, splashed the green
spaces with red. The forests took on new colors, the blue of the sky
grew nearer, and in men's veins the blood ran with new vigor and
anticipations. To Keith they were all this and more. Four years along
the rim of the Arctic had made it possible for him to drink to the full
the glory of early summer along the Saskatchewan. And to Mary Josephine
it was all new. Never had she seen a summer like this that was dawning,
that most wonderful of all the summers in the world, which comes in
June along the southern edge of the Northland.
Keith had played his promised part. It was not difficult for him to
wipe away the worst of McDowell's suspicions regarding Miss Kirkstone,
for McDowell was eager to believe. When Keith told him that Miriam was
on the verge of a nervous breakdown simply because of certain trouble
into which Shan Tung had inveigled her brother, and that everything
would be straightened out the moment Shan Tung returned from Winnipeg,
the iron man seized his hands in a sudden burst of relief and gratitude.
"But why didn't she confide in me, Conniston?" he complained. "Why
didn't she confide in me?" The anxiety in his voice, its note of
disappointment, were almost boyish.
Keith was prepared. "Because--"
He hesitated, as if projecting the thing in his mind. "McDowell, I'm in
a delicate position. You must understand without forcing me to say too
much. You are the last man in the world Miss Kirkstone wants to know
about her trouble until she has triumphed, and it is over. Delicacy,
perhaps; a woman's desire to keep something she is ashamed of from the
one man she looks up to above all other men--to keep it away from him
until she has cleared herself so that there is no suspicion. McDowell,
if I were you, I'd be proud of her for that."
McDowell turned away, and for a space Keith saw the muscles in the back
of his neck twitching.
"Derwent, maybe you've guessed, maybe you understand," he said after a
moment with his face still turned to the window. "Of course she will
never know. I'm too Old, old enough to be her father. But I've got the
right to watch over her, and if any man ever injures her--"
His fists grew knotted, and softly Keith said behind him:
"You'd possibly do what John Keith did to the man who wronged his
father. And because the Law is not always omniscient, it is also
possible that Shan Tung may have to answer in some such way. Until
then, until she comes to you of her own free will and with gladness in
her eyes tells you her own secret and why she kept it from you--until
she does that, I say, it is your part to treat her as if you had seen
nothing, guessed nothing, suspected nothing. Do that, McDowell, and
leave the rest to me."
He went out, leaving the iron man still with his face to the window.
With Mary Josephine there was no subterfuge. His mind was still
centered in his own happiness. He could not wipe out of his brain the
conviction that if he waited for Shan Tung he was waiting just so long
under the sword of Damocles, with a hair between him and doom. He hoped
that Miriam Kirkstone's refusal to confide in him and her reluctance to
furnish him with the smallest facts in the matter would turn Mary
Josephine's sympathy into a feeling of indifference if not of actual
resentment. He was disappointed. Mary Josephine insisted on having Miss
Kirkstone over for dinner the next day, and from that hour something
grew between the two girls which Keith knew he was powerless to
overcome. Thereafter he bowed his head to fate. He must wait for Shan
Tung.
"If it wasn't for your promise not to fall in love, I'd be afraid,"
Mary Josephine confided to him that night, perched on the arm of his
big chair. "At times I was afraid today, Derry. She's lovely. And you
like pretty hair--and hers--is wonderful!"
"I don't remember," said Keith quietly, "that I promised you I wouldn't
fall in love. I'm desperately in love, and with you, Mary Josephine.
And as for Miss Kirkstone's lovely hair--I wouldn't trade one of yours
for all she has on her head."
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