When Andrew had gone out Graham turned to his wife.
"I'm sorry, Martha. I feel that I must go."
She came to him and put her hands on his shoulders, smiling bravely.
"Why, of course, dear! I wouldn't stop you."
Graham threw his arms around her.
"It isn't all restlessness, Martha—there is a chance! What have I done so far but keep you poor? It has hurt me to see you always hard at work at some drudgery, living in this poor little house, planning to save a few cents wherever you could. Now there may be a change; our life will be very different and the children's future brighter if I can find the lode. But if I am to find it, I must go now. In a few more years it would be too late."
"Yes," she said softly. "But, after all, we have been happy here."
He kissed her, protesting that he had been far happier than he deserved; but she drew away from him.
"Still, you have had your bad hours. Do you think I don't know? It wasn't easy to go to the office day after day and keep accounts, with the longing you couldn't get over, and dreams of riches in your mind."
"I'm afraid I let you guess it. But they're not dreams. I found a lode rich in silver; I may locate it again."