"It is a big undertaking," muttered the Colonel, and for a minute he walked up and down the room with his hands behind his back.
"I know it, sir; but fortunately she has means of her own, as I said, and can amply defray whatever extra expenditure may be incurred on her account."
"That is satisfactory," said the Colonel, "and after all, the objections may not be insuperable. I have, I must confess, a strong admiration for your wife; and if we succeed in establishing a fort at Penetang, she will, if she goes, be its brightest ornament."
"Thank you very much," exclaimed Harold, his face flushing with undisguised pleasure. "And am I to take this as equivalent to your consent?"
"Well, yes; if she is as firmly convinced as ever that it is the wiser and better thing for her to do."
For some moments Harold stood still with his hands pressed upon the desk in front of him. The old questions were coming back to him. Was it? Was it not?
"What is it, lad?" said the Colonel in a friendly tone, although he observed him keenly.
"I was just thinking," stammered Harold, "what a terrible thing it would be when too late, if it should prove to be a mistake."
"That is possible," returned the Colonel, again walking up and down the floor. "But, remember, if faint heart never won fair lady, neither did timid soldier ever win a battle. If you go into the thing at all you go in to win. Every obstacle must be overthrown. We must guard and keep that wife of yours—take her right through to the end—and crown her queen of the little fortress of Penetang which, please God, we shall build.
"It is very good of you, Colonel," was all Harold could say.