But all things come to an end, and one day Robert received two letters which compelled a pause in this pleasant life. They were from his mother and his head manager. His mother wrote: "You be to come home, Robert Campbell; everything is going to the mischief wanting you! I am hearing that the men are on strike at the works, and that the fires have been banked, and the gates locked. Jamie Rathey is drinking too much wine and neglecting his business, and Christina is whimpering and scolding, for she knows well he will not behave himself until he gets the word from you. As for myself, I am barely holding up against the great strain, for there's none to help me, Christina having trouble enough in her own shoes, and My Lady Wynton having almost forgotten the way to her own home, since she was promoted to a residence in Wynton Castle. So, Robert, my lad, come back as quick as you can, for your mother is sorely needing you." He showed this letter to his brother, and David only smiled. "Let me see your manager's letter, Robert," he asked, and when he had read it, he smiled still more significantly. "I do not think your letters need give you any anxiety, Robert," he said. "The letter from Andrew Starkie, your manager, is dated two days later than mother's, and he does not even name a strike among your workers. He seems troubled only because the orders are so large he is afraid that the cash left at his command will not be sufficient to carry them out. We can send more money to-day. I see no necessity for you to hurry. I want you to take a sail up to Vancouver, and another sail down to the Isthmus. You have given me no time yet. And what about your position with Theodora?" "I must find that out immediately. The day after I came, I gave her a ring she valued highly--a ring that her pupils presented to her. It had been stolen, and I recovered it, and she was delighted when I put it on her finger. But when I offered her the wedding ring she returned it to me, she shook her head, closed her eyes, and would not look at it." "Try her again. She has changed since then. I am sure she loves you now." "I am just going to her," and he turned away with such a mournful look that his brother called him back. "Look here, Robert," he said, "faint heart never won fair lady, or anything else for that matter. Your face is enough to frighten any woman. Women do not fancy despairers." "David, you don't know what a hopeless task it is to court your wife. She knows all your weak points, and just how most cruelly to snub you." "That is not Theodora's way! Speak to her kindly, but bravely. Be straight in all you say, for I declare to you she _feels_ a lie." "Great heavens! I should think I know that, David. I was often forced to break my promises to her, or in the stress of business I forgot them; and at last, she never noticed any promise I made. It used to make me angry." "What made you angry?"