“You hoped the loss of the money—!” Festing exclaimed.  “Did you ever know losing money make anybody content?  The thing’s absurd!”

Helen made a gesture of protest.  “Stephen, dear, try to see what I mean.  You have been doing too much, running too big risks, and fixing all your thought upon the farm.  It has made you irritable and impatient, and the strain is telling on your health.  This could not go on long, and although I’m truly sorry the wheat is spoiled, it’s some relief to know you will be forced to be less ambitious.  Besides, it’s foolish to be disturbed.  Neither of us is greedy, and we have enough.  In fact, we have much that I hardly think you value as you ought.”

“I haven’t enough; that’s the trouble.”

“Oh,” said Helen, “you know that all I have belongs to both.”

“It doesn’t,” Festing answered in a stubborn tone.  “You don’t seem to realize yet that I can’t change my views about this matter.  I’ve lost most of my money, but that’s no reason I should lose my wife’s.  Besides, since you bought the farm, you haven’t a large sum left.”  He paused and indicated the handsome rugs and furniture.  “Then it costs a good deal to live up to this kind of thing.”

“We can change that; I can manage with less help and be more economical.  There is much that we can go without.  I wouldn’t mind at all, Stephen, if it would help you to take things easily.”

Festing colored.  “No.  I can’t let you suffer for my rashness.  It’s my business to give you all the comforts you need.”

“Ah,” said Helen, “I like you to think of me.  But something’s due to pride.  I wonder how much?”

“I don’t know,” said Festing, rather wearily.  “I’m what I am and haven’t much time to improve myself.  For that matter, I’ll have less time now.”

“Then what do you mean to do?”

“Make the most of what I have left.  I’d hoped to give you a change this winter—­take you to Montreal and go skating and tobogganing, but that’s done with.  I believe I have money enough to begin again in a small way and work up.  It may take me two or three years to get back to where I was, but somehow I will get back.”

“Then you are going on as before; concentrating all your mind upon the farm, taking no rest, denying yourself every pleasure you might have had?”

“I’m afraid that’s the only way.  It’s a pretty grim outlook, but I think I can stand the strain.”

“Then I suppose I must try,” said Helen, very quietly.

She was silent afterwards, and Festing lit his pipe.  Something stood between them, and she felt that it was not less dangerous because their motives were good.  Had they differed from selfishness, agreement might have been easier, but an estrangement that sprang from principle was hard to overcome.  She wanted to help her husband and keep him to herself; he meant to save her hardship and carry out a task that was properly his.  But perhaps their motives were not so fine as they looked.  Suppose there was shabby jealousy on her side, and false pride on his?  Well, Stephen was tired and could not see things in the proper light, and it was some relief when he got up and went out.  Helen picked up a book, in the hope of banishing her uneasy thoughts.