went, as though the grey of the snow had taken detached motion. A
darker shadow stayed and faced Christian, striking his life-blood
chill with utmost despair.

Sweyn stood before him, and surely, the shadow that went was White
Fell.

They had been together--close. Had she not been in his arms, near
enough for lips to meet?

There was no moon, but the stars gave light enough to show that
Sweyn's face was flushed and elate. The flush remained, though the
expression changed quickly at sight of his brother. How, if
Christian had seen all, should one of his frenzied outbursts be
met and managed: by resolution? by indifference? He halted between
the two, and as a result, he swaggered.

"White Fell?" questioned Christian, hoarse and breathless.

"Yes?"

Sweyn's answer was a query, with an intonation that implied he was
clearing the ground for action.

From Christian came: "Have you kissed her?" like a bolt direct,
staggering Sweyn by its sheer prompt temerity.

He flushed yet darker, and yet half-smiled over this earnest of
success he had won. Had there been really between himself and
Christian the rivalry that he imagined, his face had enough of the