“She did not finish that melody,” he said, a little uneasily. “I daresay she is tired,” Ben said reassuringly. Meanwhile Hilda rested on the honeysuckle verandah, and looked at the distant ranges of mountains, and the foothills nestling up to them as children to their parents; she listened to the sweet notes of the mocking-bird who had lately taken up his quarters on the barn; she watched the flight of a company of wild ducks; and she glanced at the garden, where the flowers were growing apace. The camphor-trees were coming on bravely, and she was glad to see that the grass was sprouting up. She tried to give her mind to each separate thing which attracted her attention; and as the sun sank, and the tender rosy glow spread over hill and mountain, she stared fixedly at the beautiful sight until it faded into a tender vagueness. And then once more Chopin’s Nocturne stole on her remembrance, overwhelming her with regret and longing. [Illustration: NACHTSTÜCK, No. 4.] CHAPTER IX SCHUMANN’S NACHTSTÜCK Everything went on as usual in the little community. Robert Strafford worked incessantly, and, in addition to the help he received from his friends, had engaged the services of a Chinaman, and had made great strides with the redeeming of his land. His father had sent him some money, and told him that he should remit a further sum in a month or two, and Robert went to a lemon-nursery at once and bought five hundred Lisbons, budded on the sour root. He was so engrossed in his ranch that he did not notice how little interest Hilda was taking in all his schemes. She seemed cheerful, and was busy from morning till night, had learnt to milk the cow, and even helped on the ranch; but Ben, who observed her closely, believed that her cheerfulness was assumed, and that her ready conversation came from the lips only, and that her eagerness for work arose merely from her desire to do battle with her regrets. But Bob had taken heart and courage about her; and now eased in monetary matters by his father’s generous help, felt that he was at last coming out into the sunlight of life. So great was his confidence in his ultimate success, and so convincing was his dogged persistence, that, in spite of his misfortunes and his frail health, the minds of his companions leapt forward, as it were, three or four years, and the picture of a flourishing little ranch, more prosperous than any other in the neighbourhood, forced itself upon their attention.