on my way to call on you for the last time," he told her.

There was something in his voice that troubled her, and, though she had
expected it, she shrank from the intimation of his departure.

"Then, will you come back with me?" she asked.

"If you're not pressed for time, I'd rather walk across the moor, the way
you once took me soon after I came. I'd like to look round the
countryside again before I leave, though it will be a melancholy
pleasure."

For no very obvious reason, she hesitated. It was, however, hard to
refuse his last request and she really wished to go.

"The views are unusually good," she said, as they started on. "Wouldn't
Nasmyth have gone with you?"

"It wouldn't have been the same," he explained. "I'm storing up memories
to take away with me and somehow Nasmyth is most clearly associated with
Canada. When I think of him, it will be as sitting in camp beside a
portage or holding the canoe paddle."

"And you can't picture my being occupied in that way?"

"No," he answered gravely; "I associate you with England--with stately
old houses, with well-cared-for woods and quiet valleys. There's no doubt
that your place is here."

He spoke as if he were making an admission that was forced from him, and
she endeavored to answer in a lighter manner.

"It's the only one I've had an opportunity for trying."

"But you love this place!"

"Yes," she said; "I love it very well. Perhaps I am prejudiced, and I've
only had a glimpse at other countries, but I feel that this is the most
beautiful land in the world."

He stopped and glanced round. From where they stood he could look out
upon leagues of lonely brown moors running back into the distance under a
cloudless sky. Beyond them the Scottish hills were softly penciled in
delicate gray. There was a sense of space and vastness in the picture,
but it was not that which spoke most plainly to him. Down on the
far-spread low ground lay such white homesteads, built to stand for
generations, as he had never seen in Canada; parks sprinkled with noble
trees, amid which the gray walls of some ancient home peeped out;
plantations made with loving care, field on field, fenced in with
well-trimmed trimmed hedges.

It was all eloquent of order, security and long-established ease; a
strong contrast to the rugged wilderness where, in the bush and on
treeless prairie, men never relaxed their battle with nature. In many
ways, his was a stern country; a land of unremi