“George,” he explained, “is merely carrying on the farm as Mrs. Marston’s trustee.”

“But that hardly accounts for his keen eagerness to make his farming profitable.  It strikes one as springing from something stronger than his duty as trustee.”

Edgar nodded.

“Well, you see, he is in love with her!”

Flora sat quite still for a moment or two, and then laughed—­a little bitter laugh; she was overstrained and could not repress it.  A flood of hot color surged into her face, but in another moment she had recovered some degree of composure.

“So that is why he came out?” she said.

“Yes; he was in love with her before she married Marston.  At least, that’s his impression.”

“His impression?” echoed Flora, keenly anxious to cover any signs of the shock she had received and to learn all that could be told.  “Do you mean that Mr. Lansing doesn’t know whether he is in love with her or not?”

“No, not exactly!” Edgar felt that he was on dangerous ground.  “I’m afraid I can’t quite explain what I really do mean.  George, of course, is convinced about the thing; but I’ve a suspicion that he may be mistaken; though he’d be very indignant if he heard me say so.”

He paused, doubtful whether he was handling the matter prudently, but he felt that something must be done to relieve the strain, and continued: 

“George has the faculty of respectful admiration highly developed, but he doesn’t use it with much judgment; in fact, he’s a rather reckless idealist.  There are excuses for him; he was never much thrown into women’s society.”

“You think that explains it?” Flora forced a smile.  “But go on.”

“My idea is that George has been led by admiration and pity, and not by love at all.  I don’t think he knows the difference; he’s not much of a psychologist.  Then, you see, he’s thorough, and having got an idea into his mind, it possesses him and drives him to action.  He doesn’t stop to analyze his feelings.”

“So he came out to look after Mrs. Marston’s property because he felt sorry for her, and believed her worthy of respect?  What is your opinion of her?”

“I’ll confess that I wish she hadn’t captivated George.”

Flora’s face grew very scornful.

“I haven’t your chivalrous scruples; and I know Mrs. Marston.  She’s utterly worthless!  What is likely to happen when your comrade finds it out?”

Then she rose abruptly.

“After all, that’s a matter which chiefly concerns Mr. Lansing, and I dare say the woman he believes in will be capable of dealing with the situation.  Let’s talk of something else.”

They turned back toward the farm, but Edgar found it difficult to start a fresh topic.  All the workings of his mind centered upon George, and he suspected that his companion’s thoughts had a similar tendency.  It was getting dark when they rejoined the rest of the party, and the next morning Flett and another constable rode in.  They had discovered nothing, but as they were ready to take up the trail, Grant left the task to them and turned back with his men.