“Not for a time; I hope she's well. I'd thought about coming West to see you, but couldn't get away, and she talked about your going to Montreal this winter.”
“That's off, of course. It's plain you don't know that Helen and I have quarreled.”
Dalton looked up sharply, but was silent for a moment or two.
“This is a nasty knock,” he said. “I don't know if my relation to you justifies my venturing on dangerous ground, but do you feel at liberty to tell me what you quarreled about?”
Festing decided that Charnock's part in the matter must be kept dark. It was unthinkable that Dalton should imagine he suspected his wife.
“To put it roughly, we differed about what you might call a principle, although Helen's money had something to do with the thing. You see, I lost my crop and she was hurt because I wouldn't use her capital.”
“I don't see altogether,” Dalton rejoined. “In fact, your objection seems unusual.”
He pondered for a minute or two, and Festing marked the change in him. Dalton had a reserve and thoughtfulness he had not expected. He had grown very like Helen.
“A quarrel about a principle is apt to be dangerous,” he resumed. “Although you are probably both wrong, you can persuade yourselves you are right. Then while I was glad to hear about your wedding, I'll admit that I saw some difficulties. Helen has a strong will and is sometimes rather exacting, while you're an obstinate fellow and a little too practical. I must wait until I know more than I do now, but might be of some use as a peacemaker. Isn't it possible to compromise? Can't you meet half way?”
“Not in the meantime. I can't go home until I'm able to run the farm without your sister's help. There's some risk of her despising me if I did go.”