The two young Rockharrts had left the family party at North End, to inspect the condition of the works, and were to remain there overnight.  Old Aaron Rockharrt, Sylvanus Haught, and Cora Rothsay were, therefore, the only ones who sat down at the once full dinner table.

The meal passed in almost utter silence, for neither Sylvan nor Cora ventured to address one word to the hard old man who, whenever they had spoken to him since his loss of his wife, had replied in short, harsh words, or not replied at all.  The brother and sister, therefore, only spoke in suppressed tones, at intervals, to each other.

After dinner the old man bade them an abrupt good night, and left the room to retire to his own chamber.  Cora felt sorry for him, despite all his harshness.  She stepped after him and asked: 

“Grandfather, can I be of any service to you at all?  Help you at your—­”

He stopped her by turning and bending his gray brows over the fierce black eyes which fixed her motionless.  He stared at her for an instant and then said: 

“No.  Certainly not,” and turned and went up stairs.

Cora walked slowly back into the drawing room, at the open door of which stood Sylvan, who had heard all that passed.

“You had better let the old man alone, Cora.  Or you’ll have your head bitten off.  I don’t want to break the fifth commandment by saying anything irreverent of our grandfather, but indeed, indeed, indeed it is as much as one’s life, or at least as one’s temper, is worth to speak to him,” said the young man.

“I never reverenced my grandfather as much as I do now, Sylvan,” gravely replied the young lady.

“That is all right!  Reverence him as much as you please; but don’t go too near the old lion in his present mood.  Come and sit down on the sofa by me, sister, and let us have a pleasant talk—­”

“Pleasant talk!  Oh, Sylvan!”

“Well, then, Cora, dear sister, a cozy, confidential talk.  Do you know we have not had one for years and years and years?”

They sat down side by side holding each other’s hands in silence for a little while, when Cora said: 

“Do you think you will graduate next year, Sylvan?”

“Yes, Cora, certainly.”

“And then you will come home for a long visit.”

“For a short one, on leave.”

“And afterward, Sylvan?”

“Well, afterward I shall be ordered out to ‘The Devil’s Icy Peak.’”

“What!”

“That was Aunt Cassy’s name for all remote parts, you know.  ’Devil’s Icy Peak,’ which in my destination means some remote frontier fort, among hostile Indians, border ruffians, grizzly bears, buffaloes, rattlesnakes, mosquitoes, malaria, and other wild beasts.  There is where they send all the new-fledged military officers from West Point, and there they may spend the best part of their lives,” said Sylvan.

“Unless they have influence with the higher authorities.  If they have such influence, they may be sent to choice posts near the great cities, in reach of all the best society, best libraries, and all the luxuries and advantages of the highest civilization.”