“You see,” he made haste to explain, “in the meanwhile I must endeavour to put everything except this scheme out of my mind.”
Again he was troubled by Laura Waynefleet’s little smile.
“Yes,” she said; “in one way, no doubt, that would be the wisest course. I’m not sure, however, that everybody would have sufficient strength of will.”
Nasmyth said nothing further for a while, but––though he was probably not aware of this––his face grew thoughtful as he gazed at the river until his companion spoke again.
“Was it Miss Hamilton’s wish that you should make your mark first?” she inquired.
“No,” answered Nasmyth decisively; “I want you to understand that it was mine. She merely concurred in it.”
He changed the subject abruptly. “Tell me about yourself.”
“There is so little to tell. One day is so much like another with me, only I have been rather busier than usual lately. My father has had to cut down expenses. We have no hired man.”
Nasmyth set his lips and half-consciously closed one hand. It seemed to him an almost intolerable thing that this girl should waste her youth and sweetness dragging out a life of unremitting toil in the lone Bush. Still, while her father lived, there was nothing else she could look forward to, and he could imagine how the long colourless years would roll away with her, while she lost her freshness and grew hard and worn with petty cares and labour that needed a stronger arm than hers. She might grow discontented, he fancied, and perhaps a trifle bitter, though he could not imagine her becoming querulous.
As yet there was a great patience in her steady eyes. 235 Then it became evident that she guessed what he was thinking.