“I'm not rash at all; I knew you long ago. Your portrait hung in Charnock's house and I used to study it on winter nights. It told me what you were, and when I saw you under the copper beech I knew you very well. Still now I have seen you, your picture had lost its charm.”
“Then you have it?” Helen asked.
Festing gave her a Russia leather case and her face flushed red.
“Did Bob give you this?”
“No,” said Festing quietly; “I stole it.”
“And the case?”
“The case was made in Montreal. I went to Winnipeg, but could get nothing good enough.”
Helen turned her head. It was a long way to Winnipeg from the prairie bridge, and she was moved that he had made the journey to find a proper covering for her picture.
“You must have valued the portrait,” she remarked shyly.
“I did, but it won't satisfy me now. As soon as I met you I fell in love with you. Somehow I think you must have seen—”