“But you may still hear unpleasant stories about me,” said Winston, with a note the girl had not heard before in his voice.

“I should not believe them,” she said.

“Still,” persisted Winston, “if the tales were true?”

Maud Barrington did nothing by halves.  “Then I should remember that there is always so much we do not know which would put a different color on any story, and I believe they could never be true again.”

Winston checked a little gasp of wonder and delight, and Maud Barrington looked away across the prairie.  She was not usually impulsive and seldom lightly bestowed gifts that were worth the having, and the man knew that the faith in him she had confessed to was the result of a conviction that would last until he himself shattered it.  Then, in the midst of his elation, he shivered again and drew the lash across the near horse’s back.  The wonder and delight he felt had suddenly gone.

“Few would venture to predict as much.  Now and then I feel that our deeds are scarcely contrived by our own will, and one could fancy our parts had been thrust upon us in a grim joke,” he said.  “For instance, isn’t it strange that I should have a share in the rousing of Silverdale to a sense of its responsibilities?  Lord, what I could make of it, if fate had but given me a fair opportunity!”

He spoke almost fiercely, but the words did not displease the girl.  The forceful ring in his voice set something thrilling within her, and she knew by this time that his assertions seldom went beyond the fact.

“But you will have the opportunity, and we need you here,” she said.

“No,” said Winston slowly.  “I am afraid not.  Still, I will finish the work I see in front of me.  That at least—­one cannot hope for the unattainable.”

Maud Barrington was sensible of a sudden chill.  “Still, if one has strength and patience, is anything quite unattainable?”

Winston looked out across the prairie, and for a moment the demons of pride and ambition rioted within him.  He knew there were in him the qualities that compel success, and the temptation to stretch out a daring hand and take all he longed for grew almost overmastering.  Still, he also knew how strong the innate prejudices of caste and tradition are in most women of his companion’s station, and she had never hidden one aspect or her character from him.  It was with a smothered groan he realized that if he flung the last shred of honor aside and grasped the forbidden fruit it would turn to bitterness in his mouth.

“Yes,” he said very slowly.  “There is a limit which only fools would pass.”

Then there was silence for a while, until, as they swept across the rise, Maud Barrington laughed as she pointed to the lights that blinked in the hollow, and Winston realized that the barrier between them stood firm again.

“Our views seldom coincide for very long, but there is something else to mention before we reach the Grange,” she said.  “You must have paid out a good many dollars for the plowing of your land and mine, and nobody’s exchequer is inexhaustible at Silverdale.  Now I want you to take a check from me.”