Conjuror's House: A Romance of the Free ForestWhite, Stewart Edward
General
Conjuror's House: A Romance of the Free Forest
White, Stewart Edward
Canada, Northern -- Fiction
"Correct," laughed the young man a little hardly. "You _didn't_ ask
it. I attended to that myself. What _you_ want doesn't concern me in
the least. What do you suppose I care what, or what not, any of this
crew wants? I'm master of my own ideas, anyway, thank God. If you
don't like what I do, you can always stop me." In the tone of his
voice was a distinct challenge. Galen Albret, it seemed, chose to
pass it by.
"True," he replied sombrely, after a barely perceptible pause to mark
his tacit displeasure. "It is your hour. Say on."
"I should like to know the date at which I take _la Longue Traverse_".
"You persist in that nonsense?"
"Call my departure whatever you want to--I have the name for it. When
do I leave?"
"I have not decided."
"And in the meantime?"
"Do as you please."
"Ah, thanks for this generosity," cried the young man, in a tone of
declamatory sarcasm so artificial as fairly to scent the elocutionary.
"To do as I please--here--now there's a blessed privilege! I may walk
around where I want to, talk to such as have a good word for me,
punish those who have not! But do I err in concluding that the state
of your game law is such that it would be useless to reclaim my rifle
from the engaging Placide?"
"You have a fine instinct," approved the Factor.
"It is one of my valued possessions," rejoined the young man,
insolently. He struck a match, and by its light selected a cigarette.
"I do not myself use tobacco in this room," suggested the older
speaker.
"I am curious to learn the limits of your forbearance," replied the
younger, proceeding to smoke.
He threw back his head and regarded his opponent with an open
challenge, daring him to become angry. The match went out.
Virginia, who had listened in growing anger and astonishment, unable
longer to refrain from defending the dignity of her usually autocratic
father, although he seemed little disposed to defend himself, now
intervened from her dark corner on the divan.
"Is the journey then so long, sir," she asked composedly, "that it at
once inspires such anticipations--and such bitterness?"
In an instant the man was on his feet, hat in hand, and the cigarette
had described a fiery curve into the empty hearth.
"I beg your pardon, sincerely," he cried, "I did not know you were
here!"
"You might better apologize to my father," replied Virginia.
The young man stepped forward and, without asking permission, lighted
one of the tall lamps.
"The lady of the guns!" he marvelled softly to himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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