In the firmness of his resolution Standish was one afternoon, a few days after the garden party, by the side of Daireen on the furthest extremity of The Flats, where there was a small wood of pines growing in a sandy soil of a glittering whiteness. They pulled up their horses here amongst the trees, and Daireen looked out at the white plain beyond; but poor Standish could only gaze upon her wistful face.
'I like it,' she said musingly. 'I like that snow. Don't you think it is snow, Standish?'
'It is exactly the same,' he answered. 'I can feel a chill pass over me as I look upon it. I hate it.'
'Oh!' cried the girl, 'don't say that when I have said I like it.'
'Why should that matter?' he said sternly, for he was feeling his resolution very strong within him.
She laughed. 'Why, indeed? Well, hate it as much as you wish, Standish, it won't interfere with my loving it, and thinking of how I used to enjoy the white winters at home. Then, you know, I used to be thinking of places like this—places with plants like those aloes that the sun is glittering over.'
'And why I hate it,' said Standish, 'is because it puts me in mind of the many wretched winters I spent in the miserable idleness of my home. While others were allowed some chance of making their way in the world—making names for themselves—there was I shut up in that gaol. I have lost every chance I might have had—everyone is before me in the race.'
'In what race, Standish? In the race for fame?'
'Yes, for fame,' cried Standish; 'not that I value fame for its own sake,' he added. 'No, I don't covet it, except that—Daireen, I think there is nothing left for me in the world—I am shut out from every chance of reaching anything. I was wretched at home, but I feel even more wretched here.'
'Why should you do that, Standish?' she asked, turning her eyes upon him. 'I am sure everyone here is very kind.'