Sarmiento nodded when Walthew told him.
"It is enough; you would be thought a rich man in this country. Still, I would prefer to have your father's consent. It is our custom that a marriage should be arranged with the approval of both families."
"But you are a progressive and don't count much on customs. I understand that you mean to cut out all those that stop your people from going ahead."
"It is true to some extent," Don Martin admitted with a smile. "For all that, one may believe in progress in the abstract, and yet hesitate about making risky experiments that touch one's own family. However, if Blanca is willing, I can trust her to you."
"I'll try to deserve your confidence," Walthew answered, and added with a naïvely thoughtful air: "My people will come round; the only thing they'll insist on is that I enter the family business, and that's going to be easier than I thought."
"Why did you refuse in the beginning?"
"It's rather hard to explain. I wanted to get into touch with realities, to learn what I was good for and find my proper level."
Sarmiento made a sign of comprehension.
"And in searching for what you call realities, you have found yourself."
Walthew recognized the truth of this. It was not that in facing danger and hardship he had gained steadiness and self-control, because he had never lacked courage, but he had acquired a clearer conception of essential things. He would no longer be content to accept thoughtlessly the conventional view. His comrade had taught him much by his coolness in time of strain and his stubborn tenacity when things went wrong. It was not for nothing that Grahame had hawk-like eyes: he had the gift of seeing what must be done. But, after all, it was from hardship itself that Walthew had learned most, and in the light of that knowledge he determined to go home. The work he was best fitted for was waiting in the smoky, industrial town; it was not the task he had longed for, but it was his, and he would be content now.