“Colina brought these new-fangled notions in with her,” said her father.

“They’re all right!” said Ambrose soberly.

Colina saw the hand that held his spoon tremble slightly, and wondered why.  The fact was the thought could not but occur to him:  “How foolish for me to think she could ever bring her lovely, ladylike ways to my little shack!”

He thrust the unnerving thought away.  “I can build a bigger house, can’t I?” he demanded of himself.  “Anyway, I’ll make the best play to get her that I can!”

In the library they talked about furniture.  It transpired that the trader had a passion for cabinet making, and most of the objects that surrounded them were examples of his skill.  Ambrose admired them with due politeness, meanwhile his heart was sinking.  He could not see the slightest chance of getting a word alone with Colina.

In the middle of the evening a breed came to the door, hat in hand, to say that John Gaviller’s Hereford bull was lying down in his stall and groaning.  The trader bit his lip and glanced at Colina.

“Would you like to come and see my beasts?” he asked affably.

“Thanks,” said Ambrose just as politely.  “I’m no hand with cattle.”  He kept his eyes discreetly down.

Gaviller could not very well turn him out of the house.  There was no help for it.  He went.

CHAPTER VII.

Two interviews.

The instant the door closed behind Gaviller, Ambrose’s eyes flamed up.  “What a stroke of luck!” he cried.

It had something the effect of an explosion there in the quiet room where they had been talking so prosily.  Colina became panicky.  “I don’t understand you!” she said haughtily.

“You do!” he cried.  “You know I didn’t paddle three hundred miles up-stream to talk to him!  Never in my life had I anything so hard to go through with as the last two hours.  I didn’t dare look at you for fear of giving myself away.”

There was an extraordinary quality of passion in the simple words.  Colina felt faint and terrified.  What was one to do with a man like this!  She mounted her queenliest manner.  “Don’t make me sorry I asked you here,” she said.

“Sorry?” he said.  “Why should you be?  You can do what you like!  I can’t pretend.  I must say my say the best way I can.  I may not get another chance!”

Colina had to fight both herself and him.  She made a gallant stand.  “You are ridiculous!” she said.  “I will leave the room until my father comes back if you can’t contain yourself.”

He was plainly terrified by the threat, nevertheless he had the assurance to put himself between her and the door.

“You have no cause to be angry with me,” he said.  “You know I do not disrespect you!” He was silent for a moment.  His voice broke huskily.  “You are wonderful to me!  I have to keep telling myself you are only a woman—­of flesh and blood like myself—­else I would be groveling on the floor at your feet, and you would despise me!”