‘As well as any other.  It’s convenient for town.’

‘Do you really think of going on in that business, which you detest?’

’It has brought in a little money, and may —­ ought to —­ bring more.  But if Morphew goes down ——­’

Alma glanced at him, and said timidly ——­

‘You are going to Greystone at Easter.’

‘We shall all go.  What of that?’

‘Haven’t you’ —­ she spoke with an effort —­ ’sometimes thought you would like to live there?’

‘Great heavens —­ Alma!’

He stared at her in humorous astonishment, then slowly shook his head.  How could she live in such a place as Greystone?  And what on earth did she mean by disturbing him with such a suggestion?  But Alma, gravely and repeatedly, assured him that she could live there very well; that in all likelihood she would be much more contented there than here.

’I should bring out my violin again, and the Greystone people would admire me.  There’s a confession —­ to prove that I am in earnest.  I can’t conquer the world; I don’t wish it; that’s all over.  But I should find it pleasant to have a reputation in Greystone —­ I should indeed.’

Harvey sighed, and could not look at her.

‘And Hughie,’ she continued, ’would go to the Grammar-School.  You know how you would like that.  And living there is cheap; we might keep our horse again. —­ Don’t say anything now, but think about it.’

He raised his eyes, and fixed them upon her with a look of infinite tenderness and gratitude.  It was Alma now who sighed, but not audibly.

Before Thistlewood went north again, Harvey enjoyed long talks with him.  Mary Abbott he saw only in the presence of other people.  But on an evening in February, when Alma was at the Langlands’ and he had promised to call for her at ten o’clock, he left home an hour earlier and walked past Mrs. Abbott’s house.  A light in the window of her sitting-room showed that Mary was at home.  After a turn or two backwards and forwards, he went up to the door and knocked.  A very young servant took his name to her mistress, and then admitted him.

‘Will you let me answer your letter personally?’ he said, as Mrs. Abbott welcomed him in the room where she sat alone.

She had written about Minnie Wager, begging that he would in future cease to contribute to the girl’s support, and be responsible only for the boy.  In her new home there would be no need of a servant; she and Minnie would do the housework together.  Impossible, she wrote, to speak of his kindness both to her and the children.  For Minnie, who might henceforth be looked upon as self-supporting, he must no longer be taxed.  The child owed him every hope in her life; let him be satisfied with what he had done so generously.

Of these things they talked for a few minutes.  It was easy to see how great a change had befallen Mary Abbott’s outlook upon life.  She was younger by several years, yet not like herself of that earlier time; much gentler, much sweeter in face and word.  Harvey observed her with keen pleasure, and, becoming aware of his gaze, his smile, she blushed like a girl.