"Yes, the real reason why I'm here, when I'm wanted home."

"The real reason? Why, haven't you been telling it to me all along?"

"Well, no; I haven't got to the point yet."

"Drive on, then, old man."

"Well, you know," continued Hawbury, "after hunting all through Canada
I gave up in despair, and concluded that Ethel was lost to me, at
least for the present. That was only about six or seven months ago. So
I went home, and spent a month in a shooting-box on the Highlands;
then I went to Ireland to visit a friend; and then to London. While
there I got a long letter from my mother. The good soul was convinced
that I was wasting my life; she urged me to settle down, and finally
informed me that she had selected a wife for me. Now I want you to
understand, old boy, that I fully appreciated my mother's motives. She
was quite right, I dare say, about my wasting my life; quite right,
too, about the benefit of settling down; and she was also very kind to
take all the trouble of selecting a wife off my hands. Under other
circumstances I dare say I should have thought the matter over, and
perhaps I should have been induced even to go so far as to survey the
lady from a distance, and argue the point with my mother pro and con.
But the fact is, the thing was distasteful, and wouldn't bear thinking
about, much less arguing. I was too lazy to go and explain the matter,
and writing was not my forte. Besides, I didn't want to thwart my
mother in her plans, or hurt her feelings; and so the long and the
short of it is, I solved the difficulty and cut the knot by crossing
quietly over to Norway. I wrote a short note to my mother, making no