asked.

'Yes, large enough--twelve thousand a year.'

'And has your mother-in-law any one with her?'

'She has friends, but, as she says, none near of kin. Her nephew looks
after the works--iron works, you know--he has shares in them.'

'She is evidently very lonely,' he answered gravely.

'What shall I do?' she asked, and I knew she was waiting to hear him
urge her to stay; but he did not see, or at least gave no heed.

'I cannot say,' he repeated quietly. 'There are many things to consider;
the estates--'

'The estates seem to trouble you,' she replied, almost fretfully. He
looked up in surprise. I wondered at his slowness.

'Yes, the estates,' he went on, 'and tenants, I suppose--your
mother-in-law, your little Marjorie's future, your own future.'

'The estates are in capable hands, I should suppose,' she urged, 'and my
future depends upon what I choose my work to be.'

'But one cannot shift one's responsibilities,' he replied gravely.
'These estates, these tenants, have come to you, and with them come
duties.'

'I do not want them,' she cried.

'That life has great possibilities of good,' he said kindly.

'I had thought that perhaps there was work for me here,' she suggested
timidly.

'Great work,' he hastened to say. 'You have done great work. But you
will do that wherever you go. The only question is where your work
lies.'

'You think I should go,' she said suddenly and a little bitterly.

'I cannot bid you stay,' he answered steadily.

'How can I go?' she cried, appealing to him. 'Must I go?'

How he could resist that appeal I could not understand. His face was
cold and hard, and his voice was almost harsh as he replied--

'If it is right, you will go--you must go.'

Then she burst forth--

'I cannot go. I shall stay here. My work is here; my heart is here. How
can I go? You thought it worth your while to stay here and work, why
should not I?'

The momentary gleam in his eyes died out, and again he said coldly--

'This work was clearly mine. I am needed here.'

'Yes, yes!' she cried, her voice full of pain; 'you are needed, but
there is no need of me.'

'Stop, stop!' he said sharply; 'you must not say so.'

'I will say it, I must say it,' she cried, her voice vibrating with
the intensity of her feeling. 'I know you do not need me; you have your
work, your miners, your plans; you need no one; you are strong. But,'
and her voice rose to a cry, 'I am not strong by myself; you have m