Page:The Toll of the Bush.pdf/111

he could accept anything more from others he must first prove his ability to support himself by his own efforts. This—whether the incentive to it were pride or a desire to test his efficiency once for all by matching his strength against the world—was, he told himself, the venture which had drawn him from England.

Something of this passed through Geoffrey’s mind as he sat listening to Major Milward’s retreating footsteps. He wondered whether his employer’s last words had been prompted by good-natured sympathy, or did they veil a knowledge of the facts of the case, and, if so, how was that knowledge acquired? ‘When you are convinced that there is no place like England and no happiness away from it.’ Had the word ‘Wairangi’ been substituted for ‘England,’ the answer must have been ‘now’; for the place where love dwells is the only spot more desirable than that where we were born and bred.

Geoffrey’s thoughts drifted easily from the father to the daughter. He reviewed the occurrences of the past two months, recalling every conversation, every chance word and expression of his beloved. At one moment it seemed impossible that the girl should be unconscious of his feelings; at the next—when he recalled the frank serenity of her manner—it seemed equally impossible that she should be aware. Could any girl be unconscious of the meaning of certain little speeches, hovering on the borderland of a declaration, such as love had drawn from him on occasions? He thought of her clear eyes, and admitted it might be so. He thought of her momentary silences, and hoped for