“Ah,” said Charnock, “you’re an uncompromising fellow.  You meant that if you’d had my debts and difficulties, you could have made good?”

“I might; but we both know two or three other men whom I’d have backed to do so.”

“For all that, you’ll admit that the thing was impossible for me?”

Festing knitted his brows.  “I believe you could have overcome your difficulties; that is, if you had really made an effort and faced the situation earlier.  But since you hadn’t nerve enough, I dare say it was impossible.”

“You forget one thing; I hadn’t time.  At the best, it would have taken me three or four years to get straight, and as you haven’t much imagination, I suppose you don’t realize what Helen’s trials would have been in the meanwhile.  An engaged girl’s situation isn’t easy when her lover is away.  She stands apart, forbidden much others may enjoy, and Helen would have had to bear her friends’ contemptuous pity for being bound to a man who had turned out a failure or worse.”

“I expect that’s true,” Festing agreed.  “However, there’s another difficulty.  Suppose I persuade Miss Dalton that you made a plucky fight and only gave her up when you were beaten?  She may refuse to let you go, and insist on coming out to help.”

Charnock started, but with a rather obvious effort recovered his calm.  “You must see your suggestion’s stupid.  Helen can’t come out; I’m going to marry Sadie.”

“I forgot,” said Festing.  “Well, since you urge me, I’ll do what I can, although I don’t like the job.”

He left the homestead shortly afterwards, but felt puzzled as he walked across the plain.  When he suggested that Miss Dalton might resolve to join and help her lover, Charnock had looked alarmed.  This was strange, because although Festing had, for a moment, forgotten Sadie, it was ridiculous to imagine that Bob had done so.  Then why had he started.  There were, however, one or two other things that disturbed Festing, who felt that he had made a rash promise.  But the promise had been made, and he must do his best to carry it out.

He had a fine voyage, and a week after his arrival in the Old Country walked up and down the terrace of a house among the hills in the North of England.  His host was an old friend of the family who had shown Festing some kindness when he was young, and his daughter, Muriel, approved her father’s guest.  She liked the rather frank, brown-skinned, athletic man, whom she had joined on the terrace.  He was a new and interesting type; but although she was two or three years the younger and attractive, their growing friendship was free from possible complications.  Muriel, as Festing had learned, was going to marry the curate.