lost its balance, and discussing the evident cause. For Sweyn,
declaring his own love for White Fell, suggested that his
unfortunate brother, with a like passion, they being twins in
loves as in birth, had through jealousy and despair turned from
love to hate, until reason failed at the strain, and a craze
developed, which the malice and treachery of madness made a
serious and dangerous force.

So Sweyn theorised, convincing himself as he spoke; convincing
afterwards others who advanced doubts against White Fell;
fettering his judgment by his advocacy, and by his staunch defence
of her hurried flight silencing his own inner consciousness of the
unaccountability of her action.

But a little time and Sweyn lost his vantage in the shock of a
fresh horror at the homestead. Trella was no more, and her end a
mystery. The poor old woman crawled out in a bright gleam to visit
a bed-ridden gossip living beyond the fir-grove. Under the trees
she was last seen, halting for her companion, sent back for a
forgotten present. Quick alarm sprang, calling every man to the
search. Her stick was found among the brushwood only a few paces
from the path, but no track or stain, for a gusty wind was sifting
the snow from the branches, and hid all sign of how she came by
her death.

So panic-stricken were the farm folk that none dared go singly on
the search. Known danger could be braced, but not this stealthy
Death that walked by day invisible, that cut off alike the child
in his play and the aged woman so near to her quiet grave.