“Very well; I’ll make matters as plain as I can.  To begin with, I haven’t much money, and although I’m building a good homestead, a Western farm is very different from the Scar.  There’s none of the refinement you have round you; a man must work from sunrise until it’s dark, and there are many demands upon a woman.  For all that, I can guard against Helen suffering actual hardship.  In fact, she shall suffer nothing I can save her from.  It’s the pressure of things one can’t control and her own character that may cause the strain.  If I know her, she won’t stand by and watch when there’s much that ought to be done.”

“She would not.  But how long do you expect the strain to last?”

“Not very long.  Two years, three years; I can’t tell.  When you break new land you work hard and wait.  The railroad throws out branches, elevators are built, small towns spring up, and while you improve your holding comfort and often prosperity comes to you.”

“But in the meantime a little capital would help?”

“Of course,” said Festing.  “The trouble is I haven’t much, but I think I have enough to provide all that’s strictly necessary.”

He thought Mrs. Dalton gave her sister a warning glance, but she said:  “Well, you have my consent to ask Helen; but if she is willing to run the risk, there is a stipulation I must make.”

“So long as you consent, I’ll agree to anything,” Festing declared.  “I can’t repay you for your trust, but I’ll try to deserve it.”

Mrs. Dalton told him where Helen had gone, and setting off to meet her, he presently saw her come round a bend in a lane.  The sun had set and tall oaks, growing along the hedgerows, darkened the lane, but a faint crimson glow from the west shone between the trunks.  To the east, the quiet countryside rolled back into deepening shadow.  For a moment Festing hesitated as he watched the girl advance.  It was rash to uproot this fair bloom of the sheltered English garden and transplant it in virgin soil, swept by the rushing winds.  Then he went forward resolutely.

Helen gave him her hand and moved on with disturbed feelings, for there was something different in his look.

“If you don’t mind, we’ll stop a minute; I have something to say.  To begin with, I’m going back to Canada.”

She looked up sharply and then waited with forced calm until he resumed:  “That precipitates matters, because I must learn if I’ve hoped for too much before I go.  I was a stranger when I came here, and you were kind—­”

“You were not a stranger,” Helen said quietly.  “George told us about you, and for his sake—­”

“I don’t want you to be kind for George’s sake, but my own.  I’d sooner you liked me for what I am, with all my faults.”

“If it’s any comfort, I think I really do like you,” Helen admitted with a strained smile.

“Well enough to marry me?”

Helen colored, but gave him a level glance.  “Ah,” she said, “aren’t you rash?  You hardly know me yet.”