Then Anderson and Elizabeth journeyed West in hot haste to face a general election.  Anderson was returned, and during three or four months at Ottawa, Elizabeth was introduced to Canadian politics, and to the swing and beat of those young interests and developing national hopes which, even after London, and for the Londoner, lend romance and significance to the simpler life of Canada’s nascent capital.  But through it all both she and Anderson pined for the West, and when Parliament rose in early July, they fled first to their rising farm-buildings on one of the tributaries of the Saskatchewan, and then, till the homestead was ready, and the fall ploughing in sight, they had gone to the Rockies, in order that they might gratify a passionate wish of Elizabeth’s—­to get for once beyond beaten tracks, and surprise the unknown.  She pleaded for it as their real honeymoon.  It might never be possible again; for the toils of life would soon have snared them.

And so, after a month’s wandering beyond all reach of civilisation, they were here in the wild heart of Manitou’s wild land, and the red and white of Elizabeth’s cheek, the fire in her eyes showed how the god’s spell had worked....

* * * * *

The evening came.  Their frugal meal, prepared by one of the Indian half-breeds, and eaten in a merry community among beds of orchids and vetch, was soon done; and the husband and wife pushed off again in the boat—­for the densely wooded shores of the lake were impassable on foot—­to watch the moon rise on this mysterious land.

And as they floated there, often hand in hand, talking a little, but dreaming more—­Anderson’s secret thoughts reviewed the past year, and the incredible fortune which had given him Elizabeth.

Deep in his nature was still the old pessimism, the old sadness.  Could he make her happy?  In the close contact of marriage he realised all that had gone to the making of her subtle and delicate being—­the influences of a culture and tradition of which he was mostly ignorant, though her love was opening many gates to him.  He felt himself in many respects her inferior—­and there were dark moments when it seemed to him inevitable that she must tire of him.  But whenever they overshadowed him, the natural reaction of a vigorous manhood was not far off.  Patriotism and passion—­a profound and simple pride—­stood up and wrestled with his doubt.  She was not less, but more, than he had imagined her.  What was in truth his safeguard and hers, was the fact that, at the very root of her, Elizabeth was a poet!  She had seen Canada and Anderson from the beginning in the light of imagination; and that light was not going to fail her now.  For it sprang from the truth and glow of her own nature; by the help of it she made her world; and Canada and Anderson moved under it, nobly seen and nobly felt.

This he half shrinkingly understood, and he repaid her with adoration, and a wisely yielding mind.  For her sake he was ready to do a hundred things he had never yet thought of, reading, inquiring, observing, in wider circles and over an ampler range.  For as the New World, through Anderson, worked on Elizabeth—­so Europe, through Elizabeth, worked on Anderson.  And thus, from life to life, goes on the great interpenetrating, intermingling flux of things!