“He did not,” said Mrs. Dalton.  “We thought it better not to tell him; but we can trust you.”

“Thank you,” said Festing, who was silent for a time.

He had wondered whether he had misjudged Charnock in one respect, but saw that he had not.  The fellow was a cur and would not have married Sadie if he had known about Helen’s money.  But this did not matter.

“Well,” he resumed, “if you agree to my proposition, we’ll get a lawyer to fix it up.  In a way, it’s some relief to know Helen has enough, and now I’m going to talk to her.”

He found her in the next room and she gave him a smile.  “I expect mother has told you I’m not as poor as you thought.  Are you pleased or not?”

“I’m pleased for your sake, because there’s not much risk of your finding things too hard, but I’d have been proud to marry you if you had nothing at all.”

“Not even a certain prettiness?” Helen asked.

“Your beauty’s something to be thankful for; but after all it’s, so to speak, an accident, like your money.  It wasn’t your beauty, but you, I fell in love with.”

Helen blushed.  “Ah!” she said, “now you’re very nice indeed!”

CHAPTER XI

SADIE USES PRESSURE

It was getting cold in the small back office when Sadie put down her pen and went into the store.  She was cramped with sitting, for she had been occupied with accounts for several hours and the stove had burned low.

“You can quit now, Steve,” she said to the clerk.  “Put out the lights, but don’t lock up.  I’m going to wait until the boss comes.”

The clerk turned his head to hide a smile; because he knew where Charnock was, and thought Mrs. Charnock might have to wait some time; but he did as he was told, and when he went out Sadie stood shivering at the door.  She had married Charnock late in the fall and now it was March, but there was no sign yet of returning spring.  The sky was dark and a bitter wind from the prairie blew down the empty street.  Blocks of square-fronted houses stood out harshly against the snow, which sparkled here and there in a ray of light.  The settlement looked ugly and very desolate, and Sadie studied it with a feeling of weariness and disgust.  It seemed strange that she had once thought it a lively place, but this was before she met Charnock, who had taught her much.

Shutting the door, she returned to the office and glanced critically at her reflection in a mirror on the wall.  She had been ill, in consequence of the strain she had borne while her father was sick, and looked older.  Her face was thin and she felt tired, but her skin had not lost its silky whiteness, and her black dress hung in becoming lines.  It was a well-cut dress, for Sadie was extravagant in such matters and knew how to choose her clothes.  She had lost the freshness that had marked her, but had gained something:  a touch of dignity that she thought of as style.