She reined her horse to a walk and turned to him, saying in a pleading voice:
"Mark, I have a favour to ask of you! Will you see as much of my husband as you can? Will you try to win his confidence and be his friend as I know you are mine? We have old links, of course, which makes friendship easy, but I do feel that Alfred needs a friend like you. He has somehow contracted such shallow aims; his ambitions often seem to me so poor, though I do try to be sympathetic. He is naturally secretive, you know, but I'm sure he isn't happy just now, though he does not open his mind to me. I fear his restlessness makes him extravagant. From some chance words he dropped lately it is evident that we have been spending too much money. As a new-comer, I haven't been able to give him the help he needed. It might have been different if we had come together to face the difficulties and temptations of the new country," wound up Hester with a sigh, some of her fears and perplexities coming sharply into relief.
"I believe you are right," returned Mark, glad to ignore her pitiful request, responding only to the last remark, "though you know the general theory is that the man should come first and prospect."
"Well, in your case I believe it will work all right. Your garnered experience will prove a mine of wisdom to your bride when you bring her to these shores. I'm longing to behold that 'not impossible she,' Mark! When will she arrive?" she asked smilingly, glancing at her companion.
Mark Cheveril did not return her glance, but reflectively stroked his horse's neck. After a moment's silence, he looked at her, and said slowly:
"There is not 'a possible she' for me, Hester."
"Oh, but she's waiting for you now in some English home, though you don't know it! I feel sure you will not choose foolishly, Mark, and I shall be able to give my heart's love to your wife when she comes. You'll tell her you have a friend who will insist on being admitted to her friendship."
To this Mark made no reply except to shake his head. They were now well on their homeward way, and had been riding slowly side by side as they talked.
Several vehicles and many native pedestrians had passed them, the highway between St. Thomas's Mount and Madras being also the road to Palaveram and a busy thoroughfare. A dust-begrimed bandy sweeping by did not attract the attention of the riders, for it was the facsimile of many which had already passed and repassed. But it was otherwise with the solitary occupant of the shabby vehicle. The riders had caught his eye while they were still in advance of his carriage. He glanced with keen interest at the handsome pair and their fine horses.