“Can I trust you?” she said, almost in a whisper.

He rose to his full height, and stood before her.  And in that moment an odd little thrill went through her.  He was magnificent—­the finest man she had ever seen.  She caught her breath a little, feeling awed before the immensity of his strength.  But, very curiously, she no longer felt afraid.

“You must ask yourself that question,” he said bluntly.  “You have my word.”

And with a gasp she let herself go at last.

“I will take you on trust,” she said.

VI

When Sybil at length travelled up-country with her husband the shearing season had already commenced.  They went by easy stages, for the heat was great, and she was far from strong.  She knew that Mercer was anxious to reach his property, and she would have journeyed more rapidly if he would have permitted it, but upon this point he was firm.  At every turn he considered her, and she marvelled at the intuition with which he divined her unspoken wishes.  Curt and rough though he was, his care surrounded her in a magic circle within which she dwelt at ease.  With all his imperiousness she did not find him domineering, and this fact was a constant marvel to her, for she knew the mastery of his will.  By some mysterious power he curbed himself, and day by day her confidence in him grew.

They accomplished the greater part of the journey by rail, and then when the railway ended came the long, long ride.  They travelled for five days, spending each night at an inn at some township upon the road.  Through dense stretches of forest, through great tracts of waste country, and again through miles of parched pasture-land they rode, and during the whole of that journey Mercer’s care never relaxed.  She never found him communicative.  He would ride for hours without uttering a word, but yet she was subtly conscious of his close attention.  She knew that she was never out of his thoughts.

At the inns at which they rested he always saw himself to her comfort, and the best room was always placed at her disposal.  One thing impressed her at every halt.  The innkeepers one and all stood in awe of him.  Not one of them welcomed him, but not one of them failed to attend with alacrity to his wants.  It puzzled her, for she herself had never found him really formidable.

On the last morning of their ride, when they set forth, she surprised a look of deep compassion in the eyes of the innkeeper’s wife as she said good-bye, and it gave her something of a shock.  Why was the woman sorry for her?  Had she heard her story by any strange chance?  Or was it for some other reason?  It left an unpleasant impression upon her.  She wished she had not seen it.

They rode that day almost exclusively through Mercer’s property, which extended for many miles.  He was the owner of several farms, two of which they passed without drawing rein.  He was taking her to what he called the Home Farm, his native place, which he still made his headquarters, and from which he overlooked the whole of his great property.