The Lure of the North. Harold Bindloss
older that he often longed for the wild North, but although the place grew and the business prospered, he could not spare the time and money to look for the lode. He wanted to give my brother a good education and start him well, and after a time I was sent to a university."
"That explains something," Thirlwell remarked, and then pulling himself up, added: "If you take proper appliances, a prospecting expedition costs much. But did your father often talk about the lode?"
"No; not unless it was to me."
"But why did he tell you and not your brother?"
"George was very practical; I was romantic and my father something of a dreamer. We lived happily at home, but I felt that he needed sympathy that he did not get. I think now my mother knew he longed for the North, and was afraid the longing might grow too strong and draw him back. When he did speak of the silver she smiled. I suppose when you have known the wilderness its charm is strong?"
She stopped and her face was gravely thoughtful as she looked across the shining water towards the faint blur of a pine forest on a distant point, and Thirlwell felt as if they had been suddenly united by a bond of understanding.
"Yes," he said. "It's a stern country and one has much to bear; but it calls. One fears the hardships, cold, and danger—but one goes."
Agatha looked up quietly, but he noted the gleam in her eyes.
"You know! Well, you can imagine what it cost my father to resist the call, but he did resist for many years. He loved my mother, but I think he hated the growing town; then there was the dream of riches that might be his. He was not greedy, and my brother did not need money. George had a talent for business and his employers soon promoted him; but I was fond of science, and it was my father's ambition that I should make independent researches and not be forced to work for pay."
She hesitated, and then went on: "Perhaps I am boring you, but I wanted you to understand what his duty must have cost. You see, you only knew him in the bush, and after he went back I noted a difference in his letters. They were sometimes strange; he seemed to be hiding things. I think he felt the disappointment keenly and lost heart."
Thirlwell saw she suspected something, and replied: "Disappointment is often numbing; but your father never lost his faith in the lode."
"Nor have I lost mine," said Agatha. "But we will not talk about that yet. He brought us up and started us well; then my mother died, and nobody had any further claim on him. His duty was done, and though he was getting old, he went back to the North. Well, I have told you part of his story, and you know the rest."
"It is a moving tale," said Thirlwell, with quiet sympathy.
He thought she felt it was necessary to defend her father, and she had done so. Indeed, he admitted that one must respect the man who had, with uncomplaining patience, for years carried on his disliked task for his wife and children's sake. Longing for the woods and the silent trail, Strange must have found it irksome to count dollar bills and weigh groceries in the store; but he had done his duty, and borne hardship and failure when at last freedom came. Still the girl must not know what he had become.
Agatha asked him a number of questions and then got up. "Thank you," she said. "I will take the photograph and would like you to keep the specimen of ore."
"I will keep it; but I wonder why you wish to give it me?"
She smiled. "I believe in the lode and would like you to believe in it, too. You are a mining engineer and can find out if there is much silver in the stone."
Then she crossed the lawn to the hotel veranda and left Thirlwell thoughtful.
Chapter III—Agatha Makes A Promise
Next morning Thirlwell wrote to his employers, stating that he meant to take another week's holiday, and smiled as he reflected that the letter would arrive too late for them to refuse. The hotel was comfortable, he had met one or two interesting people, and was told the fishing was good; besides, he thought he would not be badly needed at the mine just then. For all that, he was not quite persuaded that these were sufficient reasons for neglecting his work, and when he went through the hall with the letter in his hand he put it into his pocket instead of the box. He would think over the matter again before the mail went out. Then as he crossed the veranda Agatha came up from the beach and gave him a smile.
"You are out early," Thirlwell remarked.
"I like the morning freshness and have been on the lake."
"It looks as if you had hurt yourself," said Thirlwell, noting a small wet handkerchief twisted round her hand.
Agatha laughed. "Not seriously; I blistered my fingers trying to paddle. I have been practising since I came, but it is difficult to keep the canoe straight when you are alone."
"That's so," Thirlwell agreed. "The back-feathering stroke is hard to learn."
"For all that, I mean to learn it before I go."
"Perhaps I could teach it you. How long have you got?"
"A fortnight," she said, moving on, and when she left him Thirlwell went to the mail-box and dropped in his letter.
Afterwards he felt annoyed that he had done so, and wondered whether he had weakly given way to a romantic impulse, but next morning he went down to the beach and found the girl launching a canoe. Making her sit near the middle, he knelt in the stern and drove the canoe across the shining water with vigorous strokes. Agatha wore a white jersey and had left her hat, and he noted the color the cool wind brought to her face and how the light sparkled on her hair.
By and by they skirted a rocky island where resinous smells drifted across the water and the reflections of tall pines wavered round the canoe, until he ran the craft on a shingle point and they changed places. Agatha took the single-bladed paddle and although her hands were sore made some progress while he instructed her. After a time she stopped and let the canoe drift in the hot sunshine.
"I think you'd soon make a good voyageur," Thirlwell remarked. "For one thing, you're determined; I saw you wince once or twice and imagine the paddle-haft hurt."
"I must learn to use the pole yet, and mean to try it in the river by and by. You must pole, I think, when you go up a fast stream?"
"That is so, when you can't use the tracking line. But I don't see why you are anxious to learn."
"I have an object," Agatha answered with a smile.
"Then why don't you practise canoeing at Toronto?"
"The trouble is that I haven't time. You see, I teach all day."
"But you have holidays and the evenings."
"My evenings are occupied by study."
"I don't know if it's wise to over-work yourself for the advantage of your pupils," Thirlwell remarked. "At one time, I was very keen about my profession, but soon found it a mistake to tire my brain for my employer's benefit. But what do you study?"
"Science; chemistry and geology, but not in order to teach the girls."
"Well, I suppose knowledge is worth getting for its own sake. Anyhow, I thought so, but you learn when you undertake rude mining that the main thing is to be able to make a practical use of what you know. In fact, that's often better than knowing much."
"Perhaps so," Agatha agreed. "Some day I hope to make a good use of what I have learned."
"About canoeing, or geology?"
"About both," said Agatha. "Now, however, I think we'll make for the landing. Breakfast will be ready soon."
Thirlwell saw no more of her during the day, but she came down to the beach in the evening and he gave her another lesson. As they paddled home he thought she looked