But while Weston's hate and disgust grew apace, no hint of it leaked out, and since he was the master spirit in the Rockhaven Granite Company and in that scheme held the reins, it moved on to culmination, unaffected by Hill's whining. CHAPTER XXV A SUMMER DAY The life of suspense now forced upon Winn was not agreeable. He had too much inborn ambition and energy of character, and once he had come to feel himself his own master, as his mission to Rockhaven allowed, never again could he fill a menial position and be satisfied, and the possibility of it once more seemed degradation. Then again his present dilemma was galling. He had followed Jess Hutton's advice, but no word came from the city except the weekly remittance from his firm and letters urging him to sell stock. He would not do so now, not even if those honest people had offered any price, and what he had sold was a source of dread. But no one wanted more, for the partial cessation of work in the quarry was handwriting on the wall. And so the summer days sped by, and Winn's longing for a better understanding with Mona grew stronger. In a way he stood in a false position toward all these people except Jess, and the longer it remained so the worse it seemed, so one evening he resolved to confide in Mona. "Let us go over to the cave to-morrow afternoon," he said, "I've something to tell you." It was the first step toward the right, and he felt better for having taken it. When they were crossing the mile of undulating ledges separating the village from this lonely gorge, Winn, carrying the little green bag and leading Mona like a child around the rocks, experienced a strangely sweet feeling of protection and care for her, and with it came the determination to utter no more of the cutting speeches so natural to him. "I may not be here much longer," he thought, "and it shall be a pleasant afternoon for her to recall when I am gone." And be it said here that when a man feels that way toward a woman, love's silken cord has been knotted about his heart. When they reached the niche, at the head of the gorge, a surprise awaited Winn, for its floor was carpeted thick with freshly gathered ferns, and bunches of wild roses and clusters of red berries were thrust into each crevice. "What good fairy has been here ahead of us?" exclaimed Winn as he looked at the charming nook. "Was it you, Mona?" "It must have been one of your mermaids," she answered prettily, "and our coming has frightened her away." "One who plays the violin, I imagine," he answered smiling, "and has raven tresses instead of sea-green."