“If I will labour for you--if I will work with these hands for you”--he held them out in unconscious imitation of her own manner a moment before, looking down at them curiously--“will you take my life, what I can make of it, and go on to the end with me--you and I together?” She shook her head, though with a smile on her lips. “No! That is an impossible thing. And this idea of my helping you--I haven’t the least bit of patience with that--not the least. You were born free but you have wasted your freedom. If once you were to labour with your hands--to know the toil of the men down below--you would see life differently, and all beautiful things would mean more to you. You are big and strong and you can be a man if you want to be. But I’m going to do a foolish thing--the most foolish thing I could do, I suppose--I’m going to be friends with you--just as long as you will let it be that; and I’m saying this--I wonder if you know why?” “You are kind, that is all I need to know.” “I’m not in the least kind--don’t misunderstand me. But,” she smiled brightly, confidently, “I trust you; I believe in you; and I like you. If that suits you I’m ready to begin.” She put out her hand with a frank gesture and her smile won him to instant acquiescence, though there were stipulations he wished to make as to this new relationship. He caught a glimpse of the motor bringing his father and Mrs. Craighill from the station as it flashed past the windows to the carriage entrance. The desire to possess, to protect, to defend this woman set his heart singing. She did not fear him, an evil, abhorred castaway, an ugly wreck on the shoals of time; she had spoken to him rather as a man might have done, but his response was to the woman heart in her. His hand trembled in her clasp, and the wholesomeness, the sweetness, the earnestness of her own nature kindled the hope of life in his heart. He felt a new ease, as of lifted burdens, and a light was round about him; and well for this exalted moment that he could not see ahead into the circling dark. “Good-bye, Jean!” He bent down and held her hand an instant to his cheek--the hand that had known labour! “Good-bye, Wayne Craighill,” she replied, soberly. A moment later he left the house by the front door, unnoticed by his father and Mrs. Craighill, who at the same moment appeared in the side hall. CHAPTER XXV COLONEL CRAIGHILL IS ANNOYED