“Then, will you come back with me?” she asked.
“If you’re not pressed for time, I’d rather walk across the moor, the way you once took me soon after I came. I’d like to look round the countryside again before I leave, though it will be a melancholy pleasure.”
For no very obvious reason, she hesitated. It was, however, hard to refuse his last request and she really wished to go.
“The views are unusually good,” she said, as they started on. “Wouldn’t Nasmyth have gone with you?”
“It wouldn’t have been the same,” he explained. “I’m storing up memories to take away with me and somehow Nasmyth is most clearly associated with Canada. When I think of him, it will be as sitting in camp beside a portage or holding the canoe paddle.”
“And you can’t picture my being occupied in that way?”
“No,” he answered gravely; “I associate you with England—with stately old houses, with well-cared-for woods and quiet valleys. There’s no doubt that your place is here.”
He spoke as if he were making an admission that was forced from him, and she endeavored to answer in a lighter manner.
“It’s the only one I’ve had an opportunity for trying.”
“But you love this place!”