at makes
it the more--the more touching. One clings to it the more--the
impression--because it is so fugitive--will be so soon gone."

He was silent a moment, then said abruptly:

"And the upshot of all this is, that you could not imagine living in
Canada?"

She started.

"I never said so. Of course I could imagine living in Canada!"

"But you think, for women, the life up here--in the Northwest--is too
hard."

She looked at him timidly.

"That's because I look at it from my English point of view. I am afraid
English life makes weaklings of us."

"No--not of you!" he said, almost scornfully. "Any life that seemed to
you worth while would find you strong enough for it. I am sure of that."

Elizabeth smiled and shrugged her shoulders. He went on--almost as
though pleading with her.

"And as to our Western life--which you will soon have left so far
behind--it strains and tests the women--true--but it rewards them. They
have a great place among us. It is like the women of the early races. We
listen to them in the house, and on the land; we depend on them indoors
and out; their husbands and their sons worship them!"

Elizabeth flushed involuntarily; but she met him gaily.

"In England too! Come and see!"

"I shall probably be in England next spring."

Elizabeth made a sudden movement.

"I thought you would be in political life here!"

"I have had an offer--an exciting and flattering offer. May I tell you?"

He turned to her eagerly; and she smiled her sympathy, her curiosity.
Whereupon he took a letter from his pocket--a letter from the Dominion
Prime Minister, offering him a mission of inquiry to England, on some
important matters connected with labour and emigration. The letter was
remarkable, addressed to a man so young, and on the threshold of his
political career.

Elizabeth congratulated him warmly.

"Of course you will come to stay with us!"

It was his turn to redden.

"You are very kind," he said formally. "As you know, I shall have
everything to learn."

"I will show you _our_ farms!" cried Elizabeth, "and all our dear
decrepit life--our little chessboard of an England."

"How proud you are, you Englishwomen!" he said, half frowning. "You run
yourselves down--and at bottom there is a pride like Lucifer's."

"But it is not my pride," she said, hurt, "any more than yours. We are
yours--and you are ours. One state--one country."

"No, don't let us sentimentalise. We have our own future