se
could have pulled him out of the mire!"

"She loved him," said Helen softly. "Love gave her patience and
cleverness. However, I think Sadie did not always lead Bob. She knew
when to drive."

Festing was silent for a few moments and then went on: "Well, I have
confessed two blunders and think it has done me good; but I'm getting
nearer what I want to say. Bob's something of a philosopher and once
remarked that events and people seldom force us into coils; our
passions and characters entangle us. He was scoffing at the power of the
theatrical villain and used Wilkinson for an example."

"But Wilkinson had something to do with our troubles."

"Not very much, after all. Perhaps he's accountable for my broken bones,
but it was my obstinacy and ridiculous self-confidence that sent me
here. That's what I really mean to talk about."

"Is it necessary?" Helen asked. "I was foolish to be jealous of the
farm. Women have sometimes worse grounds for jealousy."

"That would have been impossible for us! Nobody who knew you could be
attracted by another woman."

"Bob was attracted," said Helen with a blush. "One must own that he was
prudent. I haven't Sadie's courage and patience."

"In those days, Bob was a besotted whisky-tank; but we are not going to
talk about him. I'm afraid I was forgetful and went my own way like
an obstinate fool. It was wrong, ridiculously wrong; I'm not going to
excuse myself, but I want you to understand."

He paused, for effort and emotion had tired him, but presently resumed:
"I wouldn't use your money, but this wasn't altogether because I was
too proud to let you help. I wanted to keep you safe; farming's a risky
business, and I couldn't play a niggardly, cautious game. There was the
land, waiting to be worked; I couldn't spare labor or money. But since
both might be lost, I was afraid to use your fortune as a stake."

"I understand," said Helen. "All the same, I would have been glad to
take the risk. I don't think I'm very much afraid of hardship--"

Festing smiled. "You have pluck, but don't know the strain that the
wives of the struggling farmers have to bear. My object is to see that
you don't know. But there's another thing, harder to explain; you felt
that I neglected you, and I fear I did!"

"You didn't mean to neglect me. Perhaps I was foolish, Stephen, but I
felt you left me out. There were ways I could have helped."

"I took the wrong line; that's plain now, but we must think o