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Updated: June 26, 2025
The frost had grown keener as darkness crept over the forest, and the towering pines about the clearing rose in great black spires into the nipping air, but it was almost unpleasantly hot in the little general room of Waynefleet's ranch. Waynefleet, who was fond of physical comfort, had gorged the snapping stove, and the smell of hot iron filled the log-walled room.
"It hurts?" inquired Gordon dryly. Nasmyth rose. "To be frank," he admitted, "it does. Still, though the subject's a rather delicate one, I don't want you to misunderstand me. After all, Miss Waynefleet is not in the least responsible for anything her father may have done." "That," said Gordon, "is a sure thing. Well, I must be hitting the trail home.
He had made the most of things, but that, he was beginning to realize, was, after all, a somewhat perilous habit. Laura Waynefleet evidently considered that a resolute attempt to alter conditions was more becoming than to accept them, even though one was likely to be injured while making it. He heard footsteps, and, looking up, saw Gordon sit down upon the cedar-log.
It was, at least, quite evident that he could not get up yet, but there were one or two other points that occurred to him. "Does the ranch belong to Miss Waynefleet?" he inquired. "She can't live here alone." "She runs the concern. She has certainly a father, but you'll understand things more clearly when you see him. He's away in Victoria, which is partly why Mrs.
But indeed the Irish comparison alone suggests a doubt which wriggles in the recesses of my mind about the complete reliability of the philosophy of Lady Cicely Waynefleet, the complete finality of the moral of Captain Brassbound's Conversion. Of course, it was very natural in an aristocrat like Lady Cicely Waynefleet to wish to let sleeping dogs lie, especially those whom Mr.
A little pale sunshine shone down into the opening between the great cedar trunks when Laura Waynefleet walked out of the shadowy Bush. The trail from the settlement dipped into the hollow of a splashing creek, just in front of her, and a yoke of oxen, which trailed along a rude jumper-sled, plodded at her side.
"Here's a note from Miss Waynefleet. She desires you to ride across at once." With a troubled face Nasmyth stood still in the rain another minute. "I'll take the pack-horse and start now," he said after a brief silence. "When I have seen Miss Waynefleet, I'll go right on to Victoria." He turned and gazed at the river.
He also talked to Waynefleet and the hired man, when they had dinner together at the ranch, and it was not until the two men had gone back to their work that he referred to the object he had in hand. "I understand that my nephew spent some time here," he said. Laura admitted that this was the case, and when he made further inquiries, related briefly how Nasmyth had first reached the ranch.
In fact, I'm rather glad I came across you. You are evidently the man who looked after my nephew when he was ill, and from what Miss Waynefleet told me, Derrick owes you a good deal." Gordon looked at Wisbech with a little smile, as he recalled what Nasmyth had said about the man who had sent him the draft.
Wheeler's held up because his folks haven't sent him some machines, and I came along to see if I'd forgotten how to hold a drill. I don't quite know what Miss Waynefleet came for." Laura laughed good-humouredly. "Oh," she said, "I have my excuse. My father is at Victoria, and I have been staying with Mrs. Potter for a day or two.
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