"Well," she replied, "I suppose that one misses a load one has grown used to, and I feel very downcast. It's hardly fair to pass Jim on to you--but I can trust you to take care of him." "You can trust the work and the country," Lisle corrected her with a trace of grimness. "He's not going out to be idle, as he'll discover. There's nothing like short commons and steady toil for taming any one. You'll see the effect of my prescription when I send him back again." "He has physical pluck. I'm glad to remember it; and he has shown signs of steadying since he found Gladwyne out." Lisle looked at her searchingly. "Since he found Gladwyne out?" "Oh," she answered, seeing that she had been incautious, "he rather idolized the man, and I suppose it was painful to discover by accident that he wasn't quite all he thought him. Now, however, he has transferred his homage to you--I'm afraid Jim must always have somebody to prop him--but I've no misgivings." Lisle laughed. "I've seldom had the time to get into mischief; I suppose that accounts for a good deal." They were nearing the lodge and she stopped and held out her hand. "It's hard to say good-by; you have helped me more than you'll ever guess, and you won't be forgotten." Then as he held her hand with signs of embarrassment she laughed with something of her usual mocking manner and suddenly drew away. "Good-by," she added. "I was rather daring once and I suppose you were shocked. I can't repeat the rashness--it would mean more now." She walked back toward the house, and he went on. Half an hour later he met Millicent, who stopped to greet him. "I was on my way to call on you for the last time," he told her. There was something in his voice that troubled her, and, though she had expected it, she shrank from the intimation of his departure. "Then, will you come back with me?" she asked. "If you're not pressed for time, I'd rather walk across the moor, the way you once took me soon after I came. I'd like to look round the countryside again before I leave, though it will be a melancholy pleasure." For no very obvious reason, she hesitated. It was, however, hard to refuse his last request and she really wished to go. "The views are unusually good," she said, as they started on. "Wouldn't Nasmyth have gone with you?" "It wouldn't have been the same," he explained. "I'm storing up memories to take away with me and somehow Nasmyth is most clearly associated with Canada. When I think of him, it will be as sitting in camp beside a portage or holding the canoe paddle." "And you can't picture my being occupied in that way?" "No," he answered gravely; "I associate you with England--with stately old houses, with well-cared-for woods and quiet valleys. There's no doubt that your place is here." He spoke as if he were making an admission that was forced from him, and she endeavored to answer in a lighter manner. "It's the only one I've had an opportunity for trying." "But you love this place!"