When at last he spoke his words came slowly and were carefully considered.

“I think, perhaps, I can help you,” he said.  “You are determined?  You want to help those who need help?  The men of the forests?” He shook his head.  “I don’t see why you shouldn’t help the men of these forests who—­need your help.”

Nancy drew a deep breath.  A wonderful smile sprang into her pretty eyes.  It was a glad smile of thanks such as no words of hers could have expressed.

“Oh, thank you, Father—­thank you.”

Again came the man’s restless movement at the word “Father.”  He abruptly leant forward and held his cup out for replenishment.

“May I?” he asked.  Then his smile broke out again.  “But tell me,” he went on.  “What have you done about the Skandinavia?”

“Nothing.”

Nancy returned him his cup with an unsteady hand.

“Nothing?  But you must communicate with them.  You should write and tell them of your decision.  You should tell them you don’t intend to return to them.”

Father Adam sipped his tea.  He was watching intently but unobtrusively the transparent display of emotions which his words had conjured.

“I hadn’t thought about it,” Nancy said at last, not without some disappointment.  “Do you really think I should write?  But it will take so long to reach them.  I can’t wait for that.  It—­”

“Wire.”

“Yes.  I suppose I could—­wire.”

“Sternford will have it sent for you.”

In a moment the light of hope died out of the girl’s eyes.  The excited flush on her cheeks paled.  And the man saw, and read the sign he beheld.

He waited.  But Nancy remained silent, crushed under the feeling of utter desolation to which the mention of Bull Sternford’s name had reduced her.

Father Adam set his cup down.

“Don’t let the sending of that message worry, child,” he said quickly.  “These people deserve no better treatment after the thing they’ve done to you.  All you need say is, ‘You will accept my resignation forthwith.’  Write that out on a piece of paper, and sign it.  Then take it along to Mr. Sternford.  Tell him of your decision, and ask him to have it sent by the wireless.  He’ll do it, my dear.  And after that—­why, after that, if you still feel the same about things, and want to turn missionary in the lumber camps, come right back to me here, and I’ll do for you as you ask.  It’s a great thought, Nancy, and I honour you for it.  It’s a hard, desperate sort of life, without comfort or earthly reward.  Once the twilight of the forest claims you, and its people know you, there’s nothing to do but to go on and on to the end.  Will you go—­and send just that message?”

Nancy inclined her head.

“Yes.  I’ll go right away, just as soon as I’ve taken this tray back.”

She rose abruptly.  She gathered the remains of the meal on to the tray and picked it up.  And the manner of her movements betrayed her.  She stood for a moment, and the man saw the struggle for composure that was going on behind her pretty eyes.