it so scornfully. He did not know how to answer himself. In all honesty
he could not accuse himself of not having done his duty by the girl or
of any desire to shirk it in the future; and that being the case, he
grew every minute more inclined to believe that the fact that his duty
was now being made so disagreeable to him was owing, not to any fault of
his, but to the naughtiness of her disposition.

The hired man slept in an outer shed. When he had gone, and Bates went
up to his own bed in the loft of the log-house, the last sound that he
heard was the girl sobbing where she lay beside the old woman in the
room below. The sound was not cheering.

The next day was sunless and colder. Twice that morning Sissy Cameron
stopped Bates at his work to urge her determination to leave the place,
and twice he again set his reasons for refusal before her with what
patience he could command. He told her, what she knew without telling,
that the winter was close upon them, that the winter's work at the
lumber was necessary for their livelihood, that it was not in his power
to find her an escort for a journey at this season or to seek another
home for her. Then, when she came to him again a third time, his anger
broke out, and he treated her with neither patience nor good sense.

It was in the afternoon, and a chill north breeze ruffled the leaden
surface of the lake and seemed to curdle the water with its breath;
patches of soft ice already mottled it. The sky was white, and leafless
maple and evergreen seemed almost alike colourless in the dull, cold
air. Bates had turned from his work to stand for a few moments on the
hard trodden level in front of the house and survey the weather. He had
reason to survey it with anxiety. He was anxious to send the dead man's
body to the nearest graveyard for decent burial, and the messenger and