“With his poor leg, Kate?  You are as unfair to him as you were to Falkner when they first came.”

Kate, however, kept her dark eyebrows knitted in a piquant frown.

“To think of his intimating what he would allow Falkner to say!  And yet you believe he has no evil influence over the young man.”

Mrs. Hale laughed.  “Where are you going so fast, Kate?” she called mischievously, as the young lady flounced out of the room.

“Where?  Why, to tidy John’s room.  He may be coming at any moment now.  Or do you want to do it yourself?”

“No, no,” returned Mrs. Hale hurriedly; “you do it.  I’ll look in a little later on.”

She turned away with a sigh.  The sun was shining brilliantly outside.  Through the half-open blinds its long shafts seemed to be searching the house for the lost guests, and making the hollow shell appear doubly empty.  What a contrast to the dear dark days of mysterious seclusion and delicious security, lit by Lee’s laughter and the sparkling hearth, which had passed so quickly!  The forgotten outer world seemed to have returned to the house through those open windows and awakened its dwellers from a dream.

The morning seemed interminable, and it was past noon, while they were deep in a sympathetic conference with Mrs. Scott, who had drawn a pathetic word-picture of the two friends perishing in the snow-drift, without flannels, brandy, smelling-salts, or jelly, which they had forgotten, when they were startled by the loud barking of “Spot” on the lawn before the house.  The women looked hurriedly at each other.

“They have returned,” said Mrs. Hale.

Kate ran to the window.  A horseman was approaching the house.  A single glance showed her that it was neither Falkner, Lee, nor Hale, but a stranger.

“Perhaps he brings some news of them,” said Mrs. Scott quickly.  So complete had been their preoccupation with the loss of their guests that they could not yet conceive of anything that did not pertain to it.

The stranger, who was at once ushered into the parlor, was evidently disconcerted by the presence of the three women.

“I reckoned to see John Hale yer,” he began, awkwardly.

A slight look of disappointment passed over their faces.  “He has not yet returned,” said Mrs. Hale briefly.

“Sho!  I wanter know.  He’s hed time to do it, I reckon,” said the stranger.

“I suppose he hasn’t been able to get over from the Summit,” returned Mrs. Hale.  “The trail is closed.”

“It ain’t now, for I kem over it this mornin’ myself.”

“You didn’t—­meet—­anyone?” asked Mrs. Hale timidly, with a glance at the others.

“No.”

A long silence ensued.  The unfortunate visitor plainly perceived an evident abatement of interest in himself, yet he still struggled politely to say something.  “Then I reckon you know what kept Hale away?” he said dubiously.