“If there’s anything I can do——­”

“There is,” said Charnock, who hesitated for a few moments.  “I want you to go and see Helen Dalton.  She’s the girl I ought to have married, and doesn’t live very far from your friends.”

“Ah!” said Festing with a start.  “It was her portrait you meant to burn?”

Charnock gave him a sharp glance.  “Just so.  I imagine I did burn it, because I couldn’t find it afterwards.”

There was silence for a few moments while Festing wondered whether the other suspected him.  Bob had an air of frankness, but was sometimes cunning.  This, however, was not important, and Festing was strongly moved by the thought that he might see the girl.

“Why do you want me to go?” he asked.

“In order that you can tell her how I was situated.  I want her to know why I was forced to give her up.”

“But you have written and stated your reasons.”

“Of course.  But I’ve no talent for explanation, and in a letter you say too little or too much; probably I didn’t say enough.  Then you can’t tell how far the person written to will understand, and questions rise.  But will you go?”

Festing wanted to go, although he saw his task might be embarrassing.  He had been some time in Western Canada, where people are frank and do not shrink from dealing with delicate matters.  Then Charnock was his friend.

“It will be an awkward job, but you can indicate the line you think I ought to take.”

“The line is plain.  You will tell Helen what it means to lose one’s crop, and try to make her understand the struggle I’ve had—­how the weather was against me, and the debts kept piling up until I was ruined.  You can describe the havoc made by drought, and frost, and cutting sand.  Then there’s the other side of the matter; the hardships a woman must bear on the plains when money’s scarce.  The loneliness, the monotonous drudgery, the heat, the Arctic cold.”

“Miss Dalton looks as if she had pluck.  She wouldn’t be easily daunted.”

“Do you think I don’t know?  But when you meet her you’ll see that the life we lead is impossible for a girl like that.”

“It looks as if you wanted me to be your advocate,” Festing remarked rather dryly.  “I’m to make all the excuses for you I can, and prove that you were justified in breaking your engagement.  I doubt if I’m clever enough—­”

Charnock stopped him.  “No!  Perhaps I used excuses, but my object is not to clear myself.”  He paused and colored.  “We’ll admit that Helen lost nothing when I gave her up; but a girl, particularly a young, romantic girl, feels that kind of thing, and it might hurt worse if she thought she had loved a wastrel.  I want her to feel that I broke my engagement for her sake, when nothing else was possible.  That might soften the blow, and I really think it’s true.”

“How much of it is true?” Festing asked bluntly.