erybody who knows--everybody whose opinion you care for--"

She stopped a moment, colouring deeply, checked indeed by the thought of
a conversation between herself and Philip of the night before. Anderson
interrupted her:

"The sympathy of one person," he said hoarsely, "is very precious to
me. But even for her--"

She held out her hands to him again imploringly--

"Even for her?--"

But instead of taking the hands he rose and went out on the balcony a
moment, as though to look at the great view. Then he returned, and
stood over her.

"Lady Merton, I am afraid--it's no use. We are not--we can't
be--friends."

"Not friends?" she said, her lip quivering. "I thought I--"

He looked down steadily on her upturned face. His own spoke eloquently
enough. Turning her head away, with fluttering breath, she began to
speak fast and brokenly:

"I, too, have been very lonely. I want a friend whom I might help--who
would help me. Why should you refuse? We are not either of us quite
young; what we undertook we could carry through. Since my husband's
death I--I have been playing at life. I have always been hungry,
dissatisfied, discontented. There were such splendid things going on in
the world, and I--I was just marking time. Nothing to do!--as much money
as I could possibly want--society of course--travelling--and
visiting--and amusing myself--but oh! so tired all the time. And
somehow Canada has been a great revelation of real, strong, living
things--this great Northwest--and you, who seemed to explain it to me--"

"Dear Lady Merton!" His tone was low and full of emotion. And this time
it was he who stooped and took her unresisting hands in his. She went on
in the same soft, pleading tone--

"I felt what it might be--to help in the building up a better human
life--in this vast new country. God has given to you this task--such a
noble task!--and through your friendship, I too seemed to have a little
part in it, if only by sympathy. Oh, no! you mustn't turn back--you
mustn't shrink--because of what has happened to you. And let me, from a
distance, watch and help. It will ennoble my life, too. Let me!"--she
smiled--"I shall make a good friend, you'll see. I shall write very
often. I shall argue--and criticise--and want a great deal of
explaining. And you'll come over to us, and do splendid work, and make
many English friends. Your strength will all come back to you."

He pressed the hands he held more closely.

"It is l