Next afternoon Festing leaned his borrowed bicycle against the gate at Knott Scar and walked up the drive. He had grave misgivings, but it was too late to indulge them, and he braced himself and looked about with keen curiosity. The drive curved and a bank of shrubs on one side obstructed his view, but the Scar rose in front, with patches of heather glowing a rich crimson among the gray rocks. Beneath these, a dark beech wood rolled down the hill. On the other side there was a lawn that looked like green velvet. His trained eye could detect no unevenness; the smooth surface might have been laid with a spirit level. Festing had seen no grass like this in Canada and wondered how much labor it cost.

Then he came to the end of the shrubs and saw a small, creeper-covered house, with a low wall, pierced where shallow steps went up, along the terrace. The creeper was in full leaf and dark, but roses bloomed about the windows and bright-red geraniums in urns grew upon the wall. He heard bees humming and a faint wind in the beech tops, but the shadows scarcely moved upon the grass, and a strange, drowsy quietness brooded over the place. Indeed, the calm was daunting; he felt he belonged to another world and was intruding there, but went resolutely up the shallow steps.

Two white-haired ladies received him in a shady, old-fashioned room with a low ceiling. There was a smell of flowers, but it was faint, and he thought it harmonized with the subdued lighting of the room. A horizontal piano stood in a corner and the dark, polished rosewood had dull reflections; some music lay about, but not in disorder, and he noted the delicate modeling of the cabinet with diamond panes it had been taken from. He knew nothing about furniture, but he had an eye for line and remarked the taste that characterized the rest of the articles. There were a few landscapes in water-color, and one or two pieces of old china, of a deep blue that struck the right note of contrast with the pale-yellow wall.

Festing felt that the house had an influence; a gracious influence perhaps, but vaguely antagonistic to him. He had thought of a house as a place in which one ate and slept, but did not expect it to mold one's character. Surroundings like this were no doubt Helen Dalton's proper environment, but he came from the outside turmoil, where men sweated and struggled and took hard knocks.

In the meantime, he talked to and studied the two ladies. Although they had white hair, they were younger than he thought at first and much alike. It was as if they had faded prematurely from breathing too rarefied an atmosphere and shutting out rude but bracing blasts. Still they had a curious charm, and he had felt a hint of warmth in Mrs. Dalton's welcome that puzzled him.

“We have been expecting you. Bob told us you would come,” she said in a low, sweet voice, and added with a smile: “I wanted to meet you.”

Festing wondered what Bob had said about him, but for a time they tactfully avoided the object of his visit and asked him questions about his journey. Then Mrs. Dalton got up.

“Helen is in the garden. Shall we look for her?”

She took him across the lawn to a bench beneath a copper beech, and Festing braced himself when a girl got up. She wore white and the shadow of the leaves checkered the plain dress. He noted the unconscious grace of her pose as she turned towards him, and her warm color, which seemed to indicate a sanguine temperament. Helen Dalton was all that he had thought, and something more. He knew her level, penetrating glance, but she had a virility he had not expected. The girl was somehow stronger than he portrait.

“Perhaps I had better leave you to talk to Mr. Festing,” Mrs. Dalton said presently and moved away.

Helen waited with a calm that Festing thought must cost her much, and moving a folding chair, he sat down opposite.

“I understand Bob told you I would come,” he said. “You see, he is a friend of mine.”

“Yes,” she replied with a faint sparkle in her eyes. “He hinted that you would explain matters. I think he meant you would make some defense for him.”

Festing noted that her voice was low like her mother's, but it had a firmer note. He could be frank with her, but there was a risk that he might say too much.

“Well,” he said, “I may make mistakes. In fact, it was with much reluctance I promised to come, and if Bob hadn't insisted——” He paused and pulled himself together. “On the surface, of course, his conduct looks inexcusable, but he really has some defense, and I think you ought to hear it, for your own sake.”

“Perhaps I ought,” she agreed quietly. “Well, I am willing.”

Festing began by relating Charnock's troubles. He meant her to understand the situation and supplied rather confusing particulars about prairie farming and mortgages. For all that, the line he took was strong; he showed how Charnock's embarrassments prevented his offering her comforts she would find needful and saving her from the monotonous toil an impoverished farmer's wife must undertake. In the meantime, but unconsciously, he threw some light on Charnock's vacillating character.

When he stopped Helen mused for a few minutes. Although she had got a shock when Charnock gave her up, she knew her lover better than when she had promised to marry him. He came home once in the winter and she had remarked a change. Bob was not altogether the man she had thought; there were things that jarred, and his letters gradually made this plainer. Still she had meant to keep her promise, and his withdrawal hurt. She had borne something for his sake, because her mother and her relations had not approved the engagement. Then she roused herself and turned to Festing.

“You have done your best for your friend and Bob ought to be grateful, but you both start from a wrong point. Why do you take it for granted that I would shrink from hardship?”

“I didn't imagine you would shrink,” Festing declared. “For all that, Bob was right. The life is too hard for a girl brought up like you.” He hesitated a moment. “I mean for a girl brought up in your surroundings.”

Helen smiled and he knew it was a sign of courage, but had a vague feeling that he understood why she did so as he looked about. The sighing in the beech tops had died away and the shadows did not move upon the lawn. A heavy smell of flowers came from the borders and the house seemed to be sleeping in the hot sunshine. Everything was beautiful, well-ordered, and tranquil, but he knew if he stayed there long he would hear the cry of the black geese and the clang of flung-down rails ring through the soporific calm. Something in the girl's face indicated that she might find the calm oppressive and sympathize with him.

“What is Bob going to do now he has lost his farm?” she asked after a time.

“In one respect, he won't be much worse off. They expect a boom at the settlement, and he'll manage the hotel and store and poolroom for Keller. The old man will probably retire soon and Bob will get the business.”

“But why should the proprietor give the business to Bob?”

“He's Sadie's father,” Festing answered with some surprise.

“But who is Sadie?”

Festing looked up sharply and saw that Helen was puzzled and suspicious. Her eyes were harder and her mouth was set.

“Ah!” he said. “Don't you know?”

A wave of color flushed Helen's face, but her voice was level. “I don't know! It looks as if Bob had not told me the most important thing. Do you mean that he is going to marry Miss Keller?”

Festing felt pitiful. He saw that she had got a shock, but she bore it pluckily, and he tried to conquer his indignant rage. Charnock had let him believe he had told her; he ought to have realized that the fellow could not act straight.

“I thought you knew,” he stammered.

“That's obvious,” Helen replied with an effort for calm. “But tell me something about Miss Keller.”

“Sadie runs the hotel and helps at the store. She's rather pretty and intelligent. In fact, she's generally capable and a good manager.”

“You seem to know her well since you call her Sadie.”

“Oh,” said Festing, “everybody calls her Sadie!”

“You mean in the bar and poolroom? I understand the latter's a public billiard-saloon!”

Festing felt that he must do Sadie justice. She had her virtues, and although he was very angry with Charnock he did not want Helen to think the fellow had given her up for a worthless rival. Still he was not sure if his putting the girl in a favorable light would soften the blow or not.

“To begin with, they don't employ women in a Canadian bar. Then Sadie's quite a good sort and understands Bob—perhaps better than an English girl could. She was brought up on the plains and knows all about the life we lead.”

“You imply that she is not fastidious, and will be lenient to her husband's faults? That she will bring him down to her level?”

“Well,” said Festing, who thought Helen did not know Charnock's dissipated habits, “I imagine she'll keep him there, and that's something. I mean she won't let him sink below her level; Sadie's shrewd and determined. Then marriage is a problem to men like Bob farming the plains. Girls of the type they have been used to and would naturally choose couldn't stand the hardships.”

“So they are satisfied with a lower type? With any girl who pleases their eye?”

“I don't think that's quite fair,” Festing objected. “Besides, lower is rather vague.”

“Then would you, for example, be satisfied with a girl like Miss Keller?”

“Certainly not,” said Festing, with incautious firmness. “Anyway, not now I've seen a different kind in the Old Country.”

Helen turned her head and said nothing for a few moments. Then she got up.

“I think you have had a difficult task, Mr. Festing, and I must thank you for the way you have carried it out. We won't speak of it again; but perhaps if Muriel Gardiner——”

“She hasn't asked me any questions or hinted that she is curious.”

There was a gleam of amusement in Helen's eyes. “So you imagined she wasn't interested! Well, you can tell her about Bob's losses and farming troubles. You understand these matters, and it will save me something.”

Festing made a sign of agreement and Helen went with him to the terrace, where Mrs. Dalton told him when he would find them at home if he wished to come again. He was glad to leave because he thought the interview had been difficult for Helen, but her mother had made him feel that if he came back he would be welcome. This was not altogether conventional politeness; he imagined she wanted to see him, although she was obviously willing to let him go then.

He puzzled about it and other matters as he rode back. Helen Dalton was finer than her picture. He had, no doubt, been awkward and had hurt her by his clumsiness, while she had got a painful shock, but had borne it with unflinching pluck. Her calm had not deceived him, since he knew what it cost, and her smile had roused his pity because it was so brave. Then his anger against Charnock returned with extra force. The fellow, as usual, had shirked his duty, and left him to tell the girl he had really given her up because he meant to marry somebody else. Festing thought she was too just to blame him for Bob's fault, but he had been forced to witness her humiliation, and she would, no doubt, avoid him because of this. Well, he had done with Bob, although he would see him once on his return and tell him what he thought.

Then he heard a shout and saw a farmer trying to move a loaded cart out of his way. He had not noticed that he was riding furiously down a hill, but he sped past the cart upon the grassy margin of the road and laughed as he went on. His mood had changed and he resolved that he would go back to the creeper-covered house when Helen had had time to recover and his society would be less disturbing. After all, Mrs. Dalton had told him he might come.

In the evening he walked up and down the terrace with Muriel, and told her why he had gone to Knott Scar, although he was satisfied with relating Charnock's financial troubles and said nothing about his engagement to Sadie. He could not say that Muriel actually led him on, but he felt that she would be disappointed if he did not take her into his confidence.

“Of course I saw you knew all about it,” she said when he stopped. “Besides, I expected that Helen would give you leave to tell me. It would make things easier for her and be more authentic.”

“I should expect Miss Dalton to think of that.”

Muriel smiled. “Perhaps not. Well, I imagine it's lucky Charnock released her; Helen is much too good for him. I suppose you thought you took the proper line in laying all the stress you could upon the hardships?”

“I did. I thought she couldn't stand the strain she would have had to bear.”

“How did she take that?”

“She seemed surprised, as if she didn't think it much of a reason for Charnock letting her go.”

“Frankly, I don't think it was.”

“You haven't been to Canada. The life is hard.”

“It doesn't seem to have broken down your health or nerve.”

“That's different. A man gets used to hardships and discomfort. They're sometimes bracing.”

“A very masculine attitude! Then men alone have pluck and endurance?”

“There are two kinds of pluck,” Festing rejoined. “I dare say you surpass us in the moral kind—I'm sure Miss Dalton has more than Charnock. But there's the other; physical courage, and if you like, physical strength.”

Muriel looked amused. “And you imagine Helen is deficient there? Well, I suppose you don't know she's the best tennis player in the county and a daring rock-climber. Girls are taking to mountaineering now, you know. But are you going back to the Daltons?”

Festing thought she gave him a keen glance, but answered steadily: “I am going back, but not for some time. I want to go, but it might be kinder if I kept away.”

“Well, it's a very proper feeling and you're rather nice. But you talked about going to see the mountains for a few days. When do you start?”

“I don't know yet. Everything here is so charming, and I'm getting the habit of lazy enjoyment. It will need an effort to go away.”

“You're certainly nice,” Muriel rejoined, smiling. “However, you might tell me when you do think of starting. I don't want you to be away when we have arranged something to amuse you; and then, as I know the mountains, I can indicate an interesting tour. You might miss much if you didn't know where to go and what you ought to see.”

Festing promised, and she left him and went back to the house with a thoughtful smile that hinted that she had begun to make an amusing plan. Muriel was romantic and rather fond of managing her friends' affairs for their good.