"The men I came out with are going on north to Edmonton, and expect me to go with them. In fact, they have been good enough to intimate that they are astonished at my long absence, and it is evident that, if I am to go on with the thing, I must leave Prospect to-day or to-morrow." "Well," said Carrie, with a disconcerting lack of disquietude, "you couldn't expect them to wait indefinitely." The man gazed at her in evident astonishment. "Don't you understand? I couldn't get back here from Edmonton." "That is tolerably evident." Urmston looked his disappointment, but he roused himself with an effort. "Carrie," he said, "I can't go. You don't wish me to?" Carrie looked at him steadily, though there was now a faint flush in her cheeks. "I think it would be better if you told me exactly what you mean by that," she said. "Is it necessary to ask me? You know that I loved you--and I love you now. If you had been happy I might have hid my feelings--at least, I would have tried--but when I find you with a ploughman husband who could never understand or appreciate you, silence becomes impossible. He cares nothing for you, and neglects you openly." The girl glanced down at the ring on her finger. "Still," she said, with portentous calm, "_that_ implies a good deal." Urmston grew impatient. "Pshaw!" he said hoarsely, "one goes past conventions. You never loved him in the least. How could you? It would have been preposterous." "And I once loved you? Well, perhaps I did. But let us be rational. What is all this leading to?" Her dispassionate quietness should have warned him, but it merely jarred on his fastidiousness. He was not then in a mood for accurate observation. "Only that I cannot go away," he said. "This summer was meant for us. Leland thinks of nothing, cares for nothing but his farm. He has not even feeling enough to be jealous of you." "Ah," said Carrie, while the red spot grew plainer in her cheek, "and then? A summer, after all, does not last very long." The man appeared embarrassed and confused at the girl's hard, insistent tones. "Go on," she said sharply. "What is to happen when the summer is gone?" Again Urmston was silent, with the blood in his face. Carrie Leland slowly rose. For a moment she said nothing, but he winced beneath her gaze. "You do not know?" she said. "Well, I think I can tell you. When I had earned my husband's hate and contempt, you would go back to England. You would not even take me with you, and you would certainly go; for what would you do in this country? The life the men here lead would crush you. Of course you realised it before you came to me to-day." Urmston made a gesture of protest, but she silenced him with a flash from her eyes.