Benson hesitated. An abyss seemed to be yawning at his feet. What evil chance was it that had left her so illy-acquainted with her own affairs? In all the business he had transacted for her, she had signed the necessary papers without even looking at them. If she sold the wild land, the acreage could be managed. “You remember, don't you, that this land is yours? That when Anna married it was agreed that you were to take over this property in lieu of an increased equity which Stephen was to have in the mill and farm? I simply wish to recall this point to your mind so that you will understand why this is a transaction that does not involve Stephen in any way.” She knew what was in his mind, and said reproachfully: “You don't like Stephen.” “No, I don't,” he answered frankly. His tone was one of bitter hostility. “But why? You always seemed to like him up to the time he enlisted,” said Virginia. “Didn't that furnish me with sufficient excuse to change in my feelings toward him, what more was needed?” demanded Benson harshly. “He should have remained with you, Virginia, he had no right to enlist; that he did, was sheer wrong-headedness. We quarrelled over that; at least, I told him what I thought of his conduct, and I suppose he was offended by it.” “But he was carried away by the enthusiasm of those times. He was only a boy—he became involved before he knew what he was doing, and then it was too late to draw back. Remember, he had all a boy's foolish pride,” she urged gently. “I offered to take his place if he would stay here with you,” said Benson almost roughly. He wanted her to know just what he would have done for her, he was hungry for approval. “You offered to take his place?” she said in surprise; yet not quite understanding what he meant by this. “Yes, I was willing to go in his place. Can't you guess what prompted me to make the offer?” They were silent for a moment, then Virginia raised her eyes to his, and he met her glance with a look of dumb appeal. “I thank you as much for what you have sought to do for me, as for what you have actually done, Mr. Benson. If I have seemed ungrateful—” “If you would let me—” he burst out. “There—forgive me, Virginia, I don't want to offend you. What were we saying? Oh, Stephen—he had as little business to marry as he had to enlist. I'd have prevented that if I could, but I couldn't. His folly was all of a piece, I am angry whenever I think of it.” “I wonder what he will do when he comes back,” said Virginia. Benson said nothing. The farm would not have been lost but for Stephen's selfishness. This, had there been any other lacking, would have given him an excuse to hate the young fellow, and he was ready now to hate all the world. “It is not too late for him to take up the study of the law again,” suggested Virginia.