Yet even now the situation was extremely annoying and improper.  Here was this man, Anderson, still coming up to the hotel, on the most friendly terms with Lady Merton and her brother, managing for them, laying them under obligations, and all the time, unknown to Elizabeth, with this drunken old scamp of a father in the background, who had already half-threatened to molest her, and would be quite capable, if thwarted, of blackmailing his son through his English friends!

“What can I do?” he said to himself, in disgust.  “I have no right whatever to betray this man’s private affairs; at the same time I should never forgive myself—­Mrs. Gaddesden would never forgive me—­if I were to allow Lady Merton to run any risk of some sordid scandal which might get into the papers.  Of course this young man ought to take himself off!  If he had any proper feeling whatever he would see how altogether unfitting it is that he, with his antecedents, should be associating in this very friendly way with such persons as Elizabeth Merton and her brother!”

Unfortunately the “association” had included the rescue of Philip from the water of Lake Louise, and the provision of help to Elizabeth, in a strange country, which she could have ill done without.  Philip’s unlucky tumble had been, certainly, doubly unlucky, if it was to be the means of entangling his sister further in an intimacy which ought never to have been begun.

And yet how to break through this spider’s web?  Delaine racked his brain, and could think of nothing better than delay and a pusillanimous waiting on Providence.  Who knew what mad view Elizabeth might take of the whole thing, in this overstrained sentimental mood which had possessed her throughout this Canadian journey?  The young man’s troubles might positively recommend him in her eyes!

No! there was nothing for it but to stay on as an old friend and watchdog, responsible, at least—­if Elizabeth would have none of his counsels—­to her mother and kinsfolk at home, who had so clearly approved his advances in the winter, and would certainly blame Elizabeth, on her return, for the fact that his long journey had been fruitless.  He magnanimously resolved that Lady Merton should not be blamed if he could help it, by anyone except himself.  And he had no intention at all of playing the rejected lover.  The proud, well-born, fastidious Englishman stiffened as he walked.  It was wounding to his self-love to stay where he was; since it was quite plain that Elizabeth could do without him, and would not regret his departure; but it was no less wounding to be dismissed, as it were, by Anderson.  He would not be dismissed; he would hold his own.  He too would go with them to Vancouver; and not till they were safely in charge of the Lieutenant-Governor at Victoria, would he desert his post.

As to any further communication to Elizabeth, he realised that the hints into which he had been so far betrayed had profited neither himself nor her.  She had resented them, and it was most unlikely that she would ask him for any further explanations; and that being so he had better henceforward hold his peace.  Unless of course any further annoyance were threatened.