In that one moment all Robert’s doubts and misgivings were set at rest, and when Ben hurried up from the barn, the husband and wife were kneeling down and toasting themselves before the fire, the dog nestling up near them, and he heard Robert asking questions about the dear old country, and Hilda answering in a voice which struck on Ben’s sensitive ear as being somewhat harsh and strident. He had only time to glance hastily at her as, intent on serving up a dainty little dinner as quickly as possible, he passed into the kitchen. At last he brought it in triumphantly, hot steak cooked as only Ben knew how, and fried potatoes and chicken salad, and the most fragrant coffee. Finally, overcome with his exertions and his anxiety and his day’s working and waiting, with a sigh of relief he sank back in his chair and twirled his great moustaches. “You have been such a good friend to Bob,” said Hilda, smiling at him. “I know all about it.” “No, no,” said Ben, with his easy grace, “I’ve only helped to get him through the time until you came out to him. The poor wretch needed cheering up. But he does not look much like a poor wretch now.” “No, indeed,” laughed Robert, “and I don’t feel like one.” “You’ve often been a great anxiety to me,” said Ben, turning to Hilda. “When the mails have been delayed and your letters have not come at their appointed minute, then I have had to suffer. And once you were ill. During that period I was not allowed any peace of mind.” “In fact, you have had bad times on my account,” she said brightly. [Illustration: “AND HE HEARD ROBERT ASKING QUESTIONS.”] “Well, I could not bear to see him suffer,” Ben said, laying his arm on Robert’s shoulder. “He is a terrible fellow at taking things to heart. There is no doing anything at all with him.” “He has suffered quite unnecessarily,” Hilda answered, with that peculiar harsh ring in her voice which again jarred on Ben’s sensitiveness. “I am one of the strong ones of the earth.” And she looked it. Though tired after the long journey from England, she had the appearance of being in excellent health. Her complexion was dark, and her eyes were brown, but without any softness in them. She was decidedly good-looking, almost beautiful indeed, and strikingly graceful of form and stature. But she impressed Ben as being quite unsympathetic, and all the time he was washing up the tea things and tidying the little kitchen, he found himself harping on this note alone. And when he had said good-bye to Robert and Hilda, and was hurrying home on his pretty little mare Fanny, he gave vent, in his usual musical fashion, to a vague feeling of disappointment, and kept up a soft accompaniment of swearing to the howling of the wind. CHAPTER III GROWING REGRETS