asking in low, clear tones, "Is the Eastern mail in?" The voice was
in keeping with eyes, and hair, and dress--pure, refined, cultured.

Mr. Monteith's resolution was quickly made; he secured his mail and
followed Edna. "Who could she be? He supposed he knew all the young
ladies in town, but where did this revelation of loveliness drop
from?" He turned corner after corner as she did, not caring where he
went, only so that he kept her in view. To his astonishment he soon
found himself in the open country. It was not a day that he would
have chosen for a pleasure-walk in the country: the snow eddied and
whirled, and almost blinded him; but if he lost his face, his ideal
realised, should he ever find it again? There was no choice, so on he
strode, congratulating himself that he happened to have on an
overcoat and heavy boots.

The little brown-clad figure ahead of him sped briskly on, and faster
and faster came the snow. Things were beginning to look serious;
the wind roared and howled through the pine woods, blowing the snow
into drifts in the road. Mr. Monteith had a new motive for his
journey now. He must protect this young girl in her lonely way; it
was out of the question to leave her in such a desolate place and a
storm raging. He quickened his steps; she might need assistance.

A feeling of despair was beginning to creep over Edna. What if she
should sink down in this lonely place unable to go on. She had left
the main road a few minutes before, and this one by the pine woods
was not much travelled. It was probable that nobody would find her.
In dismay she turned and looked behind her, but no sooner did she see
a man rapidly coming towards her than a mortal fear took possession
of her, and she started forward with new impetus; on and on she ran