"Yes, it is. My father has a large tract of land in the West, and it's time it was looked after. Isn't it natural that I should think of doing something in life? I fear there is an impression in your mind that I entertain few thoughts beyond having a good time." "To have a good time in life," she said, smiling at him, "is a very serious matter, worthy of any one's attention. It would seem that few accomplish it." "And I greatly fear that I shall share in the ill-success of the majority." "You are much mistaken. A man has no end of resources. You will soon be enjoying the excitement of travel and enterprise in the West." "And you the excitement of society and conquest in the city. Conquests, however, must be almost wearisome to you, Miss Hargrove, you make them so easily." "You overrate my power. I certainly should soon weary of conquests were I making them. Women are different from men in this respect. Where in history do we read of a man who was satiated with conquest? Well, here we are at home. Won't you come in? Papa will be glad to see you." "Are you going to the city to-morrow?" "Yes." "May I call on you this evening?" "Certainly. Bring Amy with you, won't you?" "Will you forgive me if I come alone?" "I'll try to. I suppose Amy will be tired from nutting." He did not reply, but lifted his hat gravely, mounted his horse, and galloped away as if he were an aid bearing a message that might avert a battle. Miss Hargrove hastened to her room, and took off her hat with trembling hands. Burt's pale, resolute face told her that the crisis in her life had come. And yet she did not fully understand him. If he meant to speak, why had he not done so? why had he not asked permission to consult her father? Mr. Hargrove, from his library window, saw Burt's formal parting, and concluded that his fears or hopes--he scarcely knew which were uppermost, so deep was his love for his daughter, and so painful would it be to see her unhappy--were not to be fulfilled. By a great effort Gertrude appeared not very _distraite_ at dinner, nor did she mention Burt, except in a casual manner, in reply to a question from her mother, but her father thought he detected a strong and suppressed excitement. She excused herself early from the table, and said she must finish packing for her departure. CHAPTER LIV A GENTLE EXORCIST Burt's black horse was again white before he approached his home. In the distance he saw Amy returning, the children running on before, Alf whooping like a small Indian to some playmate who was answering further away. The gorgeous sunset lighted up the still more brilliant foliage, and made the scene a fairyland. But Burt had then no more eye for nature than a man would have who had staked his all on the next throw of the dice. Amy was alone, and now was his chance to intercept her before she reached the house. Imagine her surprise as she saw him make his horse leap the intervening fences, and come galloping toward her.