Martin made no reply to these words, for his mind was strangely disturbed. The description Nance had given of Nurse Marion made him think of Beryl. Yes, she, too, was beautiful, had a sweet face, wonderful eyes, a rich voice, and her life had been a troubled one. Tom had said that she had become a trained nurse after she had recovered from her illness. There was such a strong resemblance between Nurse Marion and Beryl that Martin felt that they must be one and the same person. Only the name puzzled him somewhat. But perhaps she had changed it when she entered the nursing profession as she had changed the whole manner of her life. And was it possible that she was coming, the only woman in the whole world whom he longed to see, and yet the only woman he dreaded to meet face to face? Yes, he knew something about those wonderful eyes of which Nance had spoken. With what a loathing scorn would they be turned upon him if he should ever see her again. But, then, that must never be. If the nurse proved to be Beryl she must not know that he lived at Quaska. A sudden impulse seized him to leave the place, such as had come over him when Dick Russell and the miners had arrived. Then it was for Nance's sake he had remained. Now this sudden longing to flee was restrained by a strong desire to behold once more the face of the woman who, during all the years of his voluntary exile, had been so much in his mind. He wondered if she had changed much since he last saw her at the church in the city years before. Would she recognise him if she met him now? he mused. It was hardly likely, for she would not associate a rough bearded man with the trim Martin Rutland she had known so long ago. But one thing was certain: she must never be allowed to cross the threshold of his house. If she did come to Quaska, and Nance should become acquainted with her it was only natural that Nance should wish to bring her home. No, such a thing must not happen.
"Nance," and Martin lifted his eyes to the place where she had been sitting. He was surprised to find that she was not there.
"What is it, daddy?" was her cheery response, as she came to his side. "I am looking after Pete, getting his breakfast."
"Why, I didn't know that you had moved. I did not hear a sound."
"And didn't you hear Pete and me talking?"
"No, not a word," at which remark both Pete and Nance laughed heartily. Martin also smiled at what he called his own foolishness.
"Nance, come close, I want to speak to you," he commanded. "Promise me," and here his voice dropped to a whisper, "that if any white woman comes to Quaska you will never invite her to this house without speaking to me first."
Seeing the surprised look upon Nance's face, he caught both of her hands in his, and held them firm.
"Promise me," he ordered.
"I promise, daddy," was the somewhat faltering reply.