Valancy had been thinking idly that Barney must resemble his mother. She had remained standing by the steps, but Dr. Redfern waved her to the swing seat.
"Sit down, dear. Never stand when you can sit. I want to get a good look at Barney's wife. Well, well, I like your face. No beauty - you don't mind my saying that - you've sense enough to know it, I reckon. Sit down."
Valancy sat down. To be obliged to sit still when mental agony urges us to stride up and down is the refinement of torture. Every nerve in her being was crying out to be alone - to be hidden. But she had to sit and listen to Dr. Redfern, who didn't mind talking at all.
"When do you think Bernie will be back?"
"I don't know - not before night probably."
"Where did he go?"
"I don't know that either. Likely to the woods - up back."
"So he doesn't tell you his comings and goings, either? Bernie was always a secretive young devil. Never understood him. Just like his poor mother. But I thought a lot of him. It hurts me when he disappeared as he did. Eleven years ago. I haven't seen my boy for eleven years."
"Eleven years." Valancy was surprised. "It's only six since he came here."
"Oh, he was in the Klondike before that - and all over the world. He used to drop me a line now and then - never give any clue to where he was but just a line to say he was all right. I s'pose he's told you all about it."
"No. I know nothing of his past life," said Valancy with sudden eagerness. She wanted to know - she must know now. It hadn't mattered before. Now she must know all. And she could never hear it from Barney. She might never even see him again. If she did, it would not be to talk of his past.
"What happened? Why did he leave his home? Tell me. Tell me."
"Well, it ain't much of a story. Just a young fool gone mad because of a quarrel with his girl. Only Bernie was a stubborn fool. Always stubborn. You never could make that boy do anything he didn't want to do. From the day he was born. Yet he was always a quiet, gentle little chap, too. Good as gold. His poor mother died when he was only two years old. I'd just begun to make money with my Hair Vigor. I'd dreamed the formula for it, you see. Some dream that. The cash rolled in. Bernie had everything he wanted. I sent him to the best schools - private schools. I meant to make a gentleman of him. Never had any chance myself. Meant he should have every chance. He went through McGill. Got honours and all that. I wanted him to go in for law. He hankered after journalism and stuff like that. Wanted me to buy a paper for him - or back him in publishing what he called a 'real, worthwhile, honest-to- goodness Canadian Magazine.' I s'pose I'd have done it - I always did what he wanted me to do. Wasn't he all I had to live for? I wanted him to be happy. And he never was happy. Can you believe it? Not that he said so. But I'd always a feeling that he wasn't happy. Everything he wanted - all the money he could spend - his own bank account - travel - seeing the world - but he wasn't happy. Not till he fell in love with Ethel Traverse. Then he was happy for a little while."
The cloud had reached the sun and a great, chill, purple shadow came swiftly over Mistawis. It touched the Blue Castle - rolled over it. Valancy shivered.
"Yes," she said, with painful eagerness, though every word was cutting her to the heart. "What - was - she - like?"
"Prettiest girl in Montreal," said Dr. Redfern. "Oh, she was a looker, all right. Eh? Gold hair - shiny as silk - great, big, soft, black eyes - skin like milk and roses. Don't wonder Bernie fell for her. And brains as well. SHE wasn't a bit of fluff. B.A. from McGill. A thoroughbred, too. One of the best families. But a bit lean in the purse. Eh! Bernie was mad about her. Happiest young fool you ever saw. Then - the bust-up."
"What happened?" Valancy had taken off her hat and was absently thrusting a pin in and out of it. Good Luck was purring beside her. Banjo was regarding Dr. Redfern with suspicion. Nip and Tuck were lazily cawing in the pines. Mistawis was beckoning. Everything was the same. Nothing was the same. It was a hundred years since yesterday. Yesterday, at this time, she and Barney had been eating a belated dinner here with laughter. Laughter? Valancy felt that she had done with laughter forever. And with tears, for that matter. She had no further use for either of them.
"Blest if I know, my dear. Some fool quarrel, I suppose. Bernie just lit out - disappeared. He wrote me from the Yukon. Said his engagement was broken and he wasn't coming back. And not to try to hunt him up because he was never coming back. I didn't. What was the use? I knew Bernie. I went on piling up money because there wasn't anything else to do. But I was mighty lonely. All I lived for was them little notes now and then from Bernie - Klondike - England - South Africa - China - everywhere. I thought maybe he'd come back some day to his lonesome old dad. Then six years ago even the letters stopped. I didn't hear a word of or from him till last Christmas."
"Did he write?"
"No. But he drew a check for fifteen thousand dollars on his bank account. The bank manager is a friend of mine - one of my biggest shareholders. He'd always promised me he'd let me know if Bernie drew any checks. Bernie had fifty thousand there. And he'd never touched a cent of it till last Christmas. The check was made out to Aynsley's, Toronto - "
"Anysley's?" Valancy heard herself saying Aynsley's! She had a box on her dressing-table with the Aynsley trademark.
"Yes. The big jewellery house there. After I'd thought it over a while, I got brisk. I wanted to locate Bernie. Had a special reason for it. It was time he gave up his fool hoboing and come to his senses. Drawing that fifteen told me there was something in the wind. The manager communicated with the Aynsleys - his wife was an Aynsley - and found out that Bernard Redfern had bought a pearl necklace there. His address was given as Box 444, Port Lawrence, Muskoka, Ont. First I thought I'd write. Then I thought I'd wait till the open season for cars and come down myself. Ain't no hand at writing. I've motored from Montreal. Got to Port Lawrence yesterday. Enquired at the post-office. Told me they knew nothing of any Bernard Snaith Redfern, but there was a Barney Snaith had a P. O. box there. Lived on an island out here, they said. So here I am. And where's Barney?"
Valancy was fingering her necklace. She was wearing fifteen thousand dollars around her neck. And she had worried lest Barney had paid fifteen dollars for it and couldn't afford it. Suddenly she laughed in Dr. Redfern's face.
"Excuse me. It's so - amusing," said poor Valancy.
"Isn't it?" said Dr. Redfern, seeing a joke - but not exactly hers. "Now, you seem like a sensible young woman, and I dare say you've lots of influence over Bernie. Can't you get him to come back to civilisation and live like other people? I've a house up there. Big as a castle. Furnished like a palace. I want company in it - Bernie's wife - Bernie's children."
"Did Ethel Traverse ever marry?" queried Valancy irrelevantly.
"Bless you, yes. Two years after Bernie levanted. But she's a widow now. Pretty as ever. To be frank, that was my special reason for wanting to find Bernie. I thought they'd make it up, maybe. But, of course, that's all off now. Doesn't matter. Bernie's choice of a wife is good enough for me. It's my boy I want. Think he'll soon be back?"
"I don't know. But I don't think he'll come before night. Quite late, perhaps. And perhaps not till tomorrow. But I can put you up comfortably. He'll certainly be back tomorrow."
Dr. Redfern shook his head.
"Too damp. I'll take no chances with rheumatism."
"Why suffer that ceaseless anguish? Why not try Redfern's Liniment?" quoted the imp in the back of Valancy's mind.
"I must get back to Port Lawrence before rain starts. Henry goes quite mad when he gets mud on the car. But I'll come back tomorrow. Meanwhile you talk Bernie into reason."