Miss Barrington shook her head.  “I fancy you are wrong.  He has offended, after all?”

She was pleased to see her niece’s face relax into a smile that expressed unconcern.  “We are all exacting now and then,” said the girl.  “Still, he made me promise to give him a fair trial, which was not flattering, because it suggested that I had been unnecessarily harsh, and then hinted this morning that he had no intention of holding me to it.  It really was not gratifying to find he held the concession he asked for of so small account.  You are, however, as easily swayed by trifles as I am, because Lance can do no wrong since he kissed your hand.”

“I really think I liked him the better for it,” said the little silver-haired lady.  “The respect was not assumed, but wholly genuine, you see, and whether I was entitled to it or not, it was a good deal in Lance’s favor that he should offer it to me.  There must be some good in the man who can be moved to reverence anything, even if he is mistaken.”

“No man with any sense could help adoring you,” said Maud Barrington.  “Still, I wonder why you believe I was wrong in wishing he had not come to Silverdale?”

Miss Barrington looked thoughtful.  “I will tell you, my dear.  There are few better men than my brother, but his thoughts, and the traditions he is bound by, are those of fifty years ago, while the restless life of the prairie is a thing of to-day.  We have fallen too far behind it at Silverdale, and a crisis is coming that none of us are prepared for.  Even Dane is scarcely fitted to help my brother to face it, and the rest are either over-fond of their pleasure or untrained boys.  Brave lads they are, but none of them have been taught that it is only by mental strain, or the ceaseless toil of his body, the man without an inheritance can win himself a competence now.  This is why they want a leader who has known hardship and hunger, instead of ease, and won what he holds with his own hand in place of having it given him.”

“You fancy we could find one in such a man as Lance has been?”

Miss Barrington looked grave.  “I believe the prodigal was afterwards a better as well as a wiser man than the one who stayed at home, and I am not quite sure that Lance’s history is so nearly like that of the son in the parable as we have believed it to be.  A residence in the sty is apt to leave a stain which I have not found on him, though I have looked for it.”

The eyes of the two women met, and, though nothing more was said, each realized that the other was perplexed by the same question, while the girl was astonished to find her vague suspicions shared.  While they sat silent, Colonel Barrington came in.

“I am glad to see you looking so much better, Maud,” he said, with a trace of embarrassment.  “Courthorne is still resting.  Now, I can’t help feeling that we have been a trifle more distant than was needful with him.  The man has really behaved very discreetly.  I mean in everything.”