ear the separation. For
one thing, we lost our crop and she'll save money while I'm away. She's
not parsimonious, but she hates to waste dollars, and must have found me
expensive now and then. Then I mean to earn something, and can imagine
her surprise when I show her my wages check."

On the surface, his mood was humorous, but Festing got a hint of
something fine beneath. "But," he said, "you mustn't stay, and I'd
sooner you didn't joke."

"Then I'll be serious; but after this there's no more to be said. Don't
imagine it's altogether for your sake I'm going to stay. You know what
I owe Sadie, and I want to show that her labor has not all been lost.
in fact, I've got my opportunity and mean to seize it. Then if you feel
some reparation is due to your wife, you can finish the work you made
her drop. Help me to cut out liquor and stay with my job, and if you
have trouble with your contract, I'll help all I can. Is it a bargain?"

"It's a bargain," said Festing quietly. "Now I think we'll talk about
something else."

He sat still for some time after Charnock left. His bitterness against
his wife had gone, and it was plain that he had been a fool. For all
that, he could not go home yet; the money was still an obstacle. Pride
forbade his letting Helen support him. Moreover, he felt that to act
against his convictions now would cost him her respect. There was
perhaps no ground for supposing she felt much respect for him, but he
meant to keep all she had.

Then he got up and straightened the blankets in his bunk. The sooner he
finished his contract, the sooner he could return, and there was much to
be done next morning. The job had not begun well.

He got up at sunrise and spent several days repairing the damage the
accident had caused, after which, for a time, things went smoothly.
Then, one morning, he stood on a rocky ledge of the island, waiting
while two of his men dragged an iron pulley backwards and forwards along
a trolley wire.

The morning was clear and cold, and the snow had crept nearer the belt
of dwindling pines that looked like matches tufted with moss. They grew
in size as they rolled down the tremendous slopes, until they towered
above the track in tall, dark spires. The mist had gone; rocks and
trees and glistening summits were sharply cut, but the valley was rather
marked by savage grandeur than beauty. There was something about its
aspect that struck a warning note. It had a look of belonging to a