The girl laughed a little. "Still, are you not presuming when you take it for granted that there are spots to change?"
Colonel Barrington said nothing further, and it was late that night when the two women reopened the subject.
"Aunt," said Maud Barrington, "I want to know what you think about Mrs. Carndall's tale."
The little lady shook her head. "I should like to disbelieve it if I could."
"Then," said Maud Barrington, "why don't you?"
"Can you give me any reasons? One must not expect too much from human nature, my dear."
The girl sat silent a while, remembering the man who she had at first sight, and in the moonlight, fancied was like her companion at the time. It was not, however, the faint resemblance that had impressed her, but a vague something in his manner, his grace, his half-veiled insolence, his poise in the saddle. She had only seen Lance Courthorne on a few occasions when she was very young, but she had seen others of his race, and the man reminded her of them. Still, she felt half-instinctively that as yet it would be better that nobody should know this, and she stooped over some lace on the table as she answered the elder lady.
"I only know one, and it is convincing. That Lance should have done what he is credited with doing, is quite impossible."
Miss Barrington smiled. "I almost believe so, too, but others of his family have done such things somewhat frequently. Do you know that Lance has all along been a problem to me, for there is a good deal in my brother's question. Although it seems out of the question, I have wondered whether there could be two Lance Courthornes in Western Canada."
The girl looked at her aunt in silence for a space, but each hid a portion of her thoughts. Then Maud Barrington laughed.