Into the history of the summer it is impossible to go minutely. What Mr. Dillwyn did in Canada, and how Lois fought with ignorance and rudeness and prejudice in her new situation, Mrs. Barclay learned but very imperfectly from the letters she received; so imperfectly, that she felt she knew nothing. Mr. Dillwyn never mentioned Miss Lothrop. Could it be that he had prematurely brought things to a decision, and so got them decided wrong? But in that case Mrs. Barclay felt sure some sign would have escaped Lois; and she gave none.
The summer passed, and two-thirds of the autumn.
One evening in the end of October, Mrs. Wishart was sitting alone in her back drawing-room. She was suffering from a cold, and coddling herself over the fire. Her major-domo brought her Mr. Dillwyn's name and request for admission, which was joyfully granted. Mrs. Wishart was denied to ordinary visitors; and Philip's arrival was like a benediction.
"Where have you been all summer?" she asked him, when they had talked awhile of some things nearer home.
"In the backwoods of Canada."
"The backwoods of Canada!"
"I assure you it is a very enjoyable region."
"What could you find to do there?"
"More than enough. I spent my time between hunting—fishing—and studying."
"Studying what, pray? Not backwoods farming, I suppose?"