soul. Bravely, frankly, she gave him back his look. Kalman drew a
deep breath. It was as if he had been on a long voyage of discovery,
how long he could not tell. But what he had seen brought comfort to
his heart. She had not shrunk from him.

"That was fine!" cried Marjorie again, offering him her hand.

"I am afraid," he said, holding back his, "that my hand is not
clean enough to shake with you."

"Give it to me," she said almost imperiously. "It is the hand of
a brave man and good."

Her tone was one of warm and genuine admiration. All Kalman's
practised self-control deserted him. He felt the hot blood rising
in his face. With a great effort he regained command of himself
and began pointing out the features of interest in the mine.

"Great changes have taken place in the last five years," she said,
looking down the ravine, disfigured by all the sordid accompaniments
of a coal mine.

"Yes, great changes," said Kalman.

"At Wakota, too, there are great changes," she said, walking a
little apart from the others. "That Mr. Brown has done wonderful
things for those foreigners."

"Yes," said Kalman proudly, "he has done great things for my people."

"They are becoming good Canadians," replied Marjorie, her colour
showing that she had noted his tone and meaning.

"Yes, they will be good Canadians," said Kalman. "They are good
Canadians now. They are my best men. None can touch them in the
mine, and they are good farmers too."

"I am sure they are," cried Marjorie heartily. "How wonderful the
power of this country of yours to transform men! It is a wonderful
country, Canada."

"That it is," cried Kalman with enthusiasm. "No man can tell, for
no man knows the magnificence of its possibilities. We have only
skirted round the edge and scratched its surface."

"It is a fine thing," said Marjorie, "to have a country to be made,
and it is fine to be a man and have a part in the making of it."

"Yes," agreed Kalman, "it is fine."

"I envy you," cried Marjorie with enthusiasm.

A shadow fell on Kalman's face. "I don't know that you need to,
after all."

Then she said good-by, leaving him with heart throbbing and nerves
tingling to his finger tips. Ah, how dear she was! What mad folly
to think he could forget her! Every glance of her eye, every tone
in her soft Scotch voice, every motion of hand and body, how
familiar they all were! Like the faint elusive perfume from the
clover fields of childhood, they smote