The girl was deeply stirred. She had not expected him to plead like this. In her world one took things for granted and implied instead of asserting them. At Allenwood he was spoken of as a rude, materialistic iconoclast, but she had found him a reckless idealist; although he made her feel that instead of being impractical he was dealing with stern realities. She would have made the great adventure only that she was not sure of her own heart yet. The consequences were too serious for one to risk a mistake.
She stood motionless, her eyes veiled by her dark lashes, and he knew the struggle that was going on within her. In his own eyes there was a great yearning; but a birthright of the pioneer is patience.
"I'm afraid you ask too much," she said at last. "If you like, you may think I am not brave enough." She raised her eyes to his; and winced at the pain she saw there. But she went on bravely: "Had things been different, I might perhaps have married you, but I think our ways are separate. And now you must let me go, and not speak of this again."
He bowed, and it struck Beatrice that there was a great dignity in his bearing.
"Very well," he answered gravely. "I will not trouble you again unless, in one way or another, you give me permission."
She turned away, and he stood still until long after she and the dog had disappeared in the bluff. Then he roused himself with a laugh.
"I won't get her this way!" he said half aloud, and picked up some of the fittings of the pump.
Beatrice went straight to her mother, for there was strong confidence between the two.
"So you refused him!" Mrs. Mowbray said, after listening silently while Beatrice was telling her of the interview. "Did you find it hard?"
"Yes," she answered slowly; "harder than I thought. But it was the only way."