He was getting used to English comforts, which did not seem so enervating as he had imagined, but he could give them up, and would, indeed, be forced to do so when he occupied his prairie homestead. A man could go without much that people in England required, and be the better for the self-denial, but it might be different for a girl. Long habit might make comfort and artistic surroundings actual necessities. It was, however, encouraging to remember Helen's cheerfulness as she led him among the crags in the rain. She had pluck and could bear fatigue and hardship. Besides, there need not be much hardship after all.
Presently Muriel gave him a careless glance. “Helen told me she met you in the hills and you came over to the hall where she and Alison Jardine stopped. Now you have had an opportunity of correcting your first impression, what do you think of her?”
“What I have always thought,” Festing replied.
Muriel looked at him with surprise, and then laughed. “Oh, yes; I remember you saw her portrait first. Well, you have more imagination than I thought. But I understand you didn't see Helen again, although she and Alison went over part of the route I marked out for you.”
Festing thought her manner was too careless, and felt suspicious, but he said: “I changed my plans. I thought it might look significant if I overtook the girls. One doesn't expect an accident to happen twice.”
“Perhaps you did the proper thing. But did you want to overtake them?”
“I did,” said Festing quietly. “Still I felt I'd better not.”
Muriel was silent for a few moments, and then remarked: “Self-denial such as you practised deserves a reward, and I met Mrs. Dalton while you were away. She asked me to bring you over when you came back. I suppose you know what she wants?”
“Yes,” said Festing, who looked disturbed. “Do you?”
“Mrs. Dalton told me. You helped George when he needed help, although he had no particular claim.”