To one less strong and healthy than Ralph it would have been killing work; but he did not seem to take any harm. Once a week came Sunday, and during that day he seemed to regain all that he had lost. Fortunately, too, during harvest-time the farmers provided extra food. There was "crowst" between meals, and supper when they worked extra late. No sooner was the hay crop out of the way than the oats and barley began to whiten in the sunshine, and then the wheat began to bend its head before the sickle. Ralph quadrupled his savings during the months of June, July, and August, and before September was out he had taken a cottage and begun to furnish it. Bice had a few things left that once belonged to his mother and father. Ralph pounced upon them greedily, and bought them cheaply from the assistant when Bice was out. On the first Saturday afternoon he had at liberty he went to St. Hilary to interview his sister. Ruth was on the look-out for him. She had got the afternoon off, and was eager to look into his eyes again. It was nearly three months since she had seen him. She met him with a glad smile and eyes that were brimful of happy tears. "How well you look," she said, looking up into his strong, sunburnt face. "I was afraid you were working yourself to death." "No fear of that," he said, with a laugh; "it is not work that kills, you know, but worry." "And you are not worrying?" she asked. "Not now," he answered. "I think I'm fairly started, and, with hard work and economy, there is no reason why we should not jog along comfortably together." "And you are still of the same mind about my keeping house for you?" "Why, what a question! As if I would stay a day longer in 'diggings' than I could help." "Are you not comfortable?" she questioned, glancing anxiously up into his face. "Yes, when at work or asleep." "There is still another question," she said at length, with a smile. "And that?" "You may want to get married some time, and then I shall be in the way." He laughed boisterously for a moment, and then his face grew grave. "I shall never marry," he said at length. "At least, that is my present conviction." She regarded him narrowly for a moment, and wondered. There came a look into his eyes which she could not understand--a far-away, pathetic look, such as is seen in the eyes of those who have loved and lost. Ruth was curious. Being a woman, she could not help it. Who was there in St. Goram likely to touch her brother's fancy? Young men who have never been in love often talk freely about getting married. She changed the subject a few minutes later, and carefully watched the effect of her words. "I suppose nothing has been heard in St. Goram of Miss Dorothy?" "No," he said hurriedly. "Have you heard anything?" And he looked at her with eager eyes, while the colour deepened on his cheeks. "I am not in the way of hearing St. Goram news," she said, with a smile.