“Aunt Ann has a cold, and Joe Grace was at the house to say that his father is ill, and aunt wishes you to go with me and see what is wanted.  He has no way to send for the doctor; and so you see, as he is in bed, you must go with me.”

“Oh, I saw him this morning.  It is of no moment.  I did what was needed.”

“But I have to see Mrs. Lamb too.  Come for the walk.  It is blowing a gale and the snow is splendid—­do come.”

Of late he had rarely walked with her.  He hesitated.

“Do come.”

“If I die of cold, Leila.”

“Die!  You do not take exercise enough to keep your blood in motion.  Come, please!”

He said no more except “Wait a moment,” and returned fitly clad.  A fury of charging battalions of snow met them in the avenue.  She faced it gallantly, joyous and rosy.  He bent to avoid the sting of the driven snow, shivering, and more at ease when in the town the houses broke the force of the gale.

“You won’t need to go to Grace’s,” he urged.

“I am under orders.  Don’t you know Aunt Ann?”

Presently plunging through the snow-drifts they came into the dreary disordered back room which had so troubled Penhallow.  It was cold with that indoor cold which is so unpleasant.  Joe Grace came in—­a big strapping young fellow.  “I came from the farm and found father in bed and no wood in the stack.  Some one has just fetched a load.”  He began to make a fire.

“Go up to your father,” said Rivers.  “Make a fire in his room.  You ought to have come sooner.  Oh, that poor helpless Baptist saint—­there isn’t much wrong, but the man is half frozen—­and it is so needless.”

“Come,” said Leila.  “Does he require anything?”

“No, I saw to that.”  As he spoke, he piled log on log and warmed his long thin hands.  “Wait a little, Leila.”  She sat down, while the loose casements rattled.

“Leila,” he said, “there is no chance to talk to you at Grey Pine.  I am troubled about these, my friends.  What I now have of health and mental wholesomeness in my life, I owe to them.  I came hither a broken, hopeless man.  Now they are in trouble.”  She looked up at him in some surprise at his confession.  “I want to help them.  Your uncle told me of your aunt’s new distress and the cause.  Then I made him talk business, and asked him to let me lend him thirty thousand dollars.  He said no, but I did see how it pleased him.  He said that it would be lost.  At all events his refusal was decisive.”

“But,” said Leila, increasingly surprised, “that was noble of you.”

“Nonsense, my dear Leila; I have more than I need—­enough to help others—­and would still have enough.”

She had a feeling of astonishment at the idea of his being so well-off, and now from his words some explanation of the mysterious aid which had so helped at the mills and so puzzled Mrs. Ann.  Why had he talked to her?  He himself could not have told why.  As he stood at the fire he went on talking, while she made her quick mental comments.