“We’ll let it go,” she resumed.  “Still, I don’t see why you should be disturbed by my success.”

“One often feels sorry when one finishes a big job.  It means one has come to the end of things one has got used to and likes.”

“But this is rather the beginning than the end.”

“No,” he said moodily.  “We have had a glorious trip, but it’s done with.  You will go back to the cities; there are only two or three months when a civilized girl can live in the woods.  The trail we have broken stops here.”

“But what do you mean to do?”

“Help Scott at the Clermont, until he’s forced to give up.”

“Sit down and light your pipe,” said Agatha.  “We must talk about this.”

He obeyed and picked up his pipe.  Although he did not light it, its touch was soothing and he wanted to keep cool.  Agatha sat down opposite on a fallen trunk and presently went on:  “To begin with, the mine must be worked, not sold, and I need help.”

“You can get a good manager for the wages you’ll be able to pay.”

Agatha’s color was higher, but she gave him a steady look.  “I want a man I know and trust.  There are many ways in which I shall need advice, because I cannot take this fortune without its responsibility.  The mine must be worked to the best advantage and the people I employ treated well.  I mean to build good houses for them, not rude shacks, make it possible for them to lead happy lives, and see they get the best, not the worst, that our cities can send them when a settlement springs up.”

“It’s a fine ambition,” Thirlwell remarked.  “However, it will cost you something, and you’ll find some resistance from the people you want to help; but if the ore’s as good as we think, you’ll be able to carry out your plans.”

“Do you think I could trust this work to a stranger?  A man hired for wages, who might have no sympathy with my aims?” Agatha asked.  “Then, if when I’ve done all I mean, I’m rich, somebody must help me to use the money well.”  She turned her head for a moment, and then resumed:  “Can’t you see that it’s daunting to feel I may have to struggle alone with a task I’m hardly fit for—­to know I’ll make mistakes?”

“There is your brother.”

Agatha smiled.

“George would see I made prudent investments, and think I ought to be satisfied with getting ten per cent.”  She gave Thirlwell a look that made his heart beat.  “I need help George cannot give, and know nobody but you.”

She stopped, for she could go no farther.  It was for him to meet her now, if he wanted, but for a moment or two he was silent and knitted his brows.  His brown face was resolute, but something in his eyes indicated that resolution cost him much.  Then he said, “You offer me the post of manager?”

She turned her head, for it was difficult to preserve her calm.  He was dull in some respects, but it was scarcely possible that he was as dull as he now pretended.  Looking up with a forced smile, she said:  “Yes, of course.  I want a manager, and if you would sooner be businesslike—­”