“Nellie, I am going to Ochre Lake with Mr. Ferrars.  Do you mind?” she asked, as she hurriedly shed her working frock and clothed herself anew.

“No, dear, of course I don’t.  Good-bye!  I hope you will have a pleasant time,” said Mrs. Burton, then kissed her sister affectionately.

Katherine was a little surprised.  Mrs. Burton was not given to over-much demonstration of feeling, and so the kiss was out of the ordinary.  But then the evening was out of the ordinary too.  As a rule she hurried along the portage path, laden with burdens as heavy as she could carry.  To-night she sauntered at a leisurely pace with no burdens at all; even the cares of the day were thrust into the background for the moment, and she was genuinely lighthearted and happy.  It was pleasant, too, to sit at ease while Jervis pulled the boat up river with long, swinging strokes that never suggested tired arms in even the remotest connection; and if they did not talk much, it was only because the river and the sunset seemed suggestive of silence.  They had passed the second portage, and waved a greeting to Mrs. M’Kree, who was sitting at ease in her garden while Astor lounged beside her.  Then Jervis began to talk about himself, which was unusual, the subject apparently having but little interest for him in a general way.

“I have been writing to my mother to-day.  It seems strange to think we shall have a post out from here once a month all the summer,” he remarked, rowing slower now, as if he were tired of violent exercise, and desired to take things easy.

“How glad your mother will be to get the letters!” exclaimed Katherine, wondering how the poor woman had borne the weary waiting of the past weeks.

“It has been hard on her, poor little Mother!” he said softly, then went on with a hardness in his tone that grated on the ears of the listener:  “Few women have had to know greater contrasts in life than my mother.  She was brought up in the purple, a maid to brush her hair and tie her shoestrings, but for the last six years she has lived in a four-roomed cottage, and has done the family washing.”

“Oh, how hard for her!” exclaimed Katherine.

“It was hard, poor Mother!” Jervis said, and his voice grew so tender that the listener understood the previous hardness must have been meant for someone else.  He was silent for some time after that, and, pulling slowly up the river, kept his eyes fixed on the water which was gliding past.

Katherine sat with her gaze fixed on the treetops, whilst her fancies were busy with the poor lady who had fallen from the luxury of having a lady’s maid to doing the work of a washerwoman.

“I was to have been a doctor,” Jervis said abruptly, taking up the talk just where he had dropped it.  “We were very poor, so I had worked my way on scholarships and that sort of thing.  I was very keen on study, for I meant to make a name for myself.  I believe I should have done too, but——­”