"You know, too?" said Forel.
Nellie Seaforth smiled a little. "I think I knew all along," she said.
"Still, Charley didn't. He is, of course, a man."
"Then one of you has got to tell me," said Alton.
Nellie Seaforth raised her hand with a little imperious gesture. "As you know half of it I think you had better hear it all," she said. "Well, if I had been Miss Deringham I would have taken that way of giving you back Carnaby. It is possible to raise money on an estate in the old country."
There was no need of further questions, for the answer was written on
Forel's flushed face, and Alton sat down with his lips firmly set.
Then there was an awkward silence until he spoke again.
"And I cannot return it. Every dollar has been sunk in the mills and roads except what we took up the first loan with."
Nellie Seaforth nodded with a pretty gravity, for the bond between them all was stronger than friendship usually is.
"No," she said, "and I can't help thinking that it is just as well. One cannot shirk his responsibilities, Harry, and you are an Alton—of Carnaby. You see, nobody could take your inheritance from you, nor, though you did your best, could you give it away, and there is, I fancy, only one meaning to that. Fate is too strong for you. You will redeem Carnaby again, go over there, and be—what you were born to be."
Alton's face was once more flushed, and the girl fancied his fingers quivered a little, but while he sat silent there was a tapping at the door and an urchin flung a journal into the room.
"Colonist," he said, and vanished suddenly.