le, but he really has some defense, and I think you ought
to hear it, for your own sake."

"Perhaps I ought," she agreed quietly. "Well, I am willing."

Festing began by relating Charnock's troubles. He meant her to
understand the situation and supplied rather confusing particulars
about prairie farming and mortgages. For all that, the line he took was
strong; he showed how Charnock's embarrassments prevented his offering
her comforts she would find needful and saving her from the monotonous
toil an impoverished farmer's wife must undertake. In the meantime, but
unconsciously, he threw some light on Charnock's vacillating character.

When he stopped Helen mused for a few minutes. Although she had got a
shock when Charnock gave her up, she knew her lover better than when she
had promised to marry him. He came home once in the winter and she had
remarked a change. Bob was not altogether the man she had thought; there
were things that jarred, and his letters gradually made this plainer.
Still she had meant to keep her promise, and his withdrawal hurt. She
had borne something for his sake, because her mother and her relations
had not approved the engagement. Then she roused herself and turned to
Festing.

"You have done your best for your friend and Bob ought to be grateful,
but you both start from a wrong point. Why do you take it for granted
that I would shrink from hardship?"

"I didn't imagine you would shrink," Festing declared. "For all that,
Bob was right. The life is too hard for a girl brought up like you." He
hesitated a moment. "I mean for a girl brought up in your surroundings."

Helen smiled and he knew it was a sign of courage, but had a vague
feeling that he understood why she did so as he looked about. The
sighing in the beech tops had died away and the shadows did not move
upon the lawn. A heavy smell of flowers came from the borders and
the house seemed to be sleeping in the hot sunshine. Everything was
beautiful, well-ordered, and tranquil, but he knew if he stayed
there long he would hear the cry of the black geese and the clang of
flung-down rails ring through the soporific calm. Something in the
girl's face indicated that she might find the calm oppressive and
sympathize with him.

"What is Bob going to do now he has lost his farm?" she asked after a
time.

"In one respect, he won't be much worse off. They expect a boom at
the settlement, and he'll manage the hotel and store and poolroom for