The old man could scarcely believe his ears when he heard the sound of the old brass knocker on the front door resound loudly through the house.

He quite imagined that he must have dreamed it, until a second and third peal brought him to his senses and his feet at the same instant.

His bewilderment knew no bounds when he appeared at the door a few minutes later and found a coach standing there and the occupants seeking a lodging, also shelter for the horses.

“I haven’t but one room to spare,” exclaimed the old innkeeper, holding a flaring candle high above his head to better view his visitor.

“Have you a room in which a fire could be made?” asked one of the men.  “We have a lady with us.”

“I suppose we could let you have my daughter Betsy’s, she being off to the city on a visit.”

“My companion and his br—­his wife could have that; you can dispose of me anywhere,” returned the speaker.  “I could doze in a chair in the barroom for that matter.  The driver could be as easily disposed of.”

“Then bring the lady right in,” said the old innkeeper.  A moment later, the lovely girl, still unconscious, was brought in and laid upon the settee in the best room.

“What is the matter with the young woman?” gasped the innkeeper, his eyes opening wide with amazement.

“Merely fainted from the intense cold,” returned one of the men briefly, adding:  “If you will see that a fire is lighted in the room that you spoke of I shall be very much obliged.”

“I’ll have my wife down in a jiffy.  No doubt the poor creature’s half frozen, but a hot whiskey toddy will thaw her out quicker than you could say Jack Robinson,” and he trotted off briskly on his double mission of rousing his wife to look after the girl and his hired help to assist the driver in putting away the horses, while he himself attended to making a blazing fire in the little chamber over the best room.

In less time than it takes to tell it the good housewife was by the girl’s side.

“What a beautiful young creature!” she exclaimed, as the veil was thrown back and she beheld the lovely face, white as chiseled marble, framed in its cloud of golden hair.  “Is it your sister, sir?” she asked, with all a country woman’s thoughtless curiosity.

“No, she is my wife,” exclaimed the stranger, who stood over by the fireplace, his brows meeting in a decided frown.

“Laws a mercy!  Isn’t she young to be married?” exclaimed the woman.  “Why, she don’t look sixteen.  Been married long?”

The stranger by the fireplace deliberately turned his back on the woman, vouchsafing her no reply.

By that time the innkeeper announced that the room above was ready, and that they might come up as soon as they liked.

Again the stranger by the fireplace lifted the slender figure, bore her up the narrow rickety stairway, saying good-night to his friend as he passed him by.