as soon as you came back."

"Then it was understood," Blake answered firmly.

"I can't let you off."

"Well," she said; "if it will bring you home any quicker, dear! But
how long must you stay?"

"I can't tell; there may be much to do and, if Harding needs me, I must
see it out, but I won't delay a minute more than's needful. You know
we may have to live in Canada?"

"Yes," she said shyly; "I won't object. Where you are will be home."

Then Foster opened the door. "The car's waiting, and it's coming on to
rain."

Millicent went out with him; and Blake, who sailed next day, found, on
reaching the timber belt, that, as he had predicted, there was much to
be done. After some months' hard work, Harding, who was confident that
the oil would pay handsomely, left him in charge while he set off for
the cities to arrange about pipes and plant and the raising of capital.
It was early winter when he returned, satisfied with what he had
accomplished, and Blake saw that he would be able to visit England in a
few weeks.

He was sitting in their office shack one bitter day when a sledge
arrived with supplies, and the teamster brought him a telegram. His
face grew grave as he opened it and read--

"Bertram killed in action.--Challoner."

"This sets you free, doesn't it?" Harding remarked after expressing his
sympathy.

"I can't tell," Blake answered. "I haven't thought of it in such a
light. I was very fond of my cousin."

"But the action must have been in India," Harding resumed after a
while. "Didn't you tell me Captain Challoner was coming home?"

"He gave up a good appointment when he found his regiment was to be
sent to a station where there was a likelihood of some fighting. I
think I can guess the reason."

Shortly before Blake left the camp he received further news by mail and
some English newspapers. Bertram had been shot when leading an attack
upon a fort among the frontier hills, and the accounts agreed that he
had shown exceptional gallantry.

On reaching England, Blake found Millicent at the station. Mrs. Keith,
she told him, had given up her London house and taken one near
Sandymere. Then she looked thoughtful when he asked about his uncle.

"I'm afraid you will see a marked change in him," she said. "He has
not been well since you left, and the news of Bertram's death was a
shock."

She was with him when he met Challoner, who looked very frail and
forlorn.

"It's a comfort to s