one expects much sometimes fail to meet it."

Millicent guessed that he was thinking of a man who had been dear to
him, and who apparently had broken down beneath sudden stress.

"It must be hard to judge them unless one knows all the circumstances,"
she said stoutly.

"Not when a man has entered his country's service. He must carry out
his orders; what he is sent to do must be done. No excuse can justify
disobedience and failure. But we are getting too serious, and I am
boring you. There is another picture I think you would like to see."

They walked down the long gallery, chatting lightly. The Colonel drew
her attention to a few of his favorite landscapes, and then they stood
before a large painting of a scene unmistakably in British Columbia.
The Indian canoe on the rippled surface of the lake, the tall, stiff,
yet beautiful, trees that crept down to the water's edge, the furrowed
snow peaks in the background, stirred the girl's pulse as she thought
of one who even then perhaps was wandering about in that wild country.
She expressed her admiration of the painting, and then rather
hesitatingly mentioned the Colonel's nephew.

"Have you heard anything from Mr. Blake since he left Montreal?"

"Nothing," said Challoner with a trace of grimness. "He does not
correspond with me."

"Then I suppose you don't know where he is?"

"I heard that he had left a small settlement on the Western prairie and
started for the North." He gave her a sharp glance. "Are you
interested in my nephew?"

"Yes," she said frankly. "I don't know him very well, but on two
occasions he came to my assistance when I needed it. He was very
tactful and considerate."

"Then he's fortunate in gaining your good opinion. No doubt, you know
something about his history?"

"I dare say my good opinion is not worth much, but I feel that he
deserves it, in spite of what I've been told about him," she answered
with a blush. "It is very sad that he should have to give up all he
valued; and I thought there was something gallant in his
cheerfulness--he was always ready with a jest."

"Have you met his companion? I understand that he is not a man of my
nephew's stamp."

Millicent smiled.

"Hardly so, from your point of view."

"Does that mean that yours is not the same as mine?"

"I have had to earn my living; and that changes one's outlook--perhaps
I'd better not say enlarges it. However, you shall judge. Mr. Harding
is a traveler