r.

The man looked down on her with an unusual gravity. "Well," he said
simply, "Laura Waynefleet is quietness, and sweetness, and courage. In
fact, I sometimes think it was to make these things evident that she
was sent into this world."

He thought he saw a gleam of comprehension in the girl's eyes, and
made a gesture of protest. "No," he assured her, "I'm not fit to brush
her little shoes. For that matter, though he is my comrade, Nasmyth
isn't either. What is perhaps more to the purpose, I guess he is quite
aware of it."

A delicate tinge of colour crept into Violet Hamilton's face, and the
man realized that in case his suppositions were correct, what he had
implied could hardly be considered as a compliment. He could also
fancy that there was a certain uneasiness in her eyes.

"Ah," she said, "perhaps it is a subject I should not have ventured to
inquire into."

Gordon smiled reassuringly. "I don't know of any reason why you
shouldn't have done so, but I have scarcely told you anything about
her yet. Miss Waynefleet lives at a desolate ranch in the Bush.
Sometimes she drives oxen, and I believe she invariably makes her own
clothes. I don't think Nasmyth would feel any great diffidence in
speaking about her."

He believed this, or at least he strove to convince himself that he
did, but he was relieved when the appearance of Acton, who strolled
towards them, rendered any further confidential conversation out of
the question. Gordon set out for Victoria that afternoon, and Nasmyth,
who went with him to the railroad, returned to Bonavista in a restless
mood, and almost disposed to be angry with his comrade for having
rudely broken in upon his tranquillity. In fact, he felt disinclined
to face his fellow-guests, which was one reason why he was sauntering
towards the inlet when he came upon Wisbech sitting with a book in the
shadow of the pines. Wisbech looked up at his moody face.

"You are annoyed because Gordon wouldn't stay?" he suggested.

"No," said Nasmyth. "In fact, I'm a little relieved that he has gone
away. I naturally like Gordon, but just now he has an unsettling
effect on me."

Wisbech made a gesture of comprehension. "That man," he said, "is in
some respects fortunate. He has a simple programme, and is evidently
more or less content with it. His work is plain in front of him. You
are not quite sure about yours yet. To some extent, you feel yourself
adrift?"

"I have felt something of the kind