"No. Something entirely different. And very unexpected. I am to go to California; I am to start to-morrow morning. And I am to stay there--live there. It will be for a year or two, I suppose; at any rate, until this new campaign of your husband's planning has been fought out and won--as won it surely will be. For Patterson, it seems, won't be able to go at present, and I am to take his place. Later, he hopes to be on the spot. But even then I am to remain, they tell me. My instructions will be here to-night by letter." He felt, inwardly, a great sense of triumph that he was considered competent--already considered competent--to take charge of the more important post. And as he put the telegram in his pocket, the anticipation of success came to him like a breeze charged with perfume; his pulses had a firm, quick beat; the future--a future of his own choosing--unrolled itself brightly before him. Ruth had made no reply. After a moment her silence struck him--struck him even in his preoccupation--and he turned to look at her. Her face had a strange, stiffened aspect, as though her breathing had suddenly been arrested. "Are you ill?" he asked, alarmed. "Oh no; I am only tired. Where is the phaeton? I have lost sight of it." "Over there; don't you see your mother's white parasol?" "Let us go back to her. But no--not just yet. I'll wait a moment or two, as I'm so tired." And, turning her back to him, she sat down on a fallen pine-tree, and rested her head on her hand. "I can bring the phaeton over here?" Walter suggested. "There is no road, but the ground is smooth." She shook her head. After a moment he began to talk; partly to fill the pause, partly to give expression to the thoughts that occupied his own mind--occupied it so fully that he did not give close heed to her. She was suddenly tired. Well, that was nothing unusual; it was always something sudden; generally a sudden gayety. At any rate, she could rest there comfortably until she felt able to go on. "It's very odd to me to think that to-morrow I shall be on my way to California again," he began. "That's what I get by being the poor one of the company, Mrs. Chase! Your husband, and Patterson, and my uncle, they sit comfortably at home; but they send _me_ from pillar to post without the least scruple. I don't mind the going. But the staying--that's a change indeed. To live in California--I have had a good many ideas in my mind, but I confess I have never had that." He laughed. But it was easy to see that the idea pleased him greatly. Ruth turned. Her eyes met his. And then, startled, amazed, the young man read in their depths something that was to him an intense surprise. At the same moment she rose. "I can go now. Mother will be wondering where I am," she said.