patient weariness of the eyes. Virginia's own eyes filled with tears.
The subjective passive state into which a newly born but not yet
recognized love had cast her, inclined her to gentleness. She accepted
facts as they came to her. For the moment she forgot the mere
happenings of the day, and lived only in the resulting mood of them
all. The new-comer inspired her no longer with anger nor sorrow,
attraction nor fear. Her active emotions in abeyance, she floated
dreamily on the clouds of a new estate.

This very aloofness of spirit disinclined her for the company of the
others after the meal was finished. The Factor closeted himself with
Richardson. The doctor, lighting a cheroot, took his way across to his
infirmary. McDonald, Crane, and Mrs. Cockburn entered the drawing-room
and seated themselves near the piano. Virginia hesitated, then threw a
shawl over her head and stepped out on the broad veranda.

At once the vast, splendid beauty of the Northern night broke over her
soul. Straight before her gleamed and flashed and ebbed and palpitated
the aurora. One moment its long arms shot beyond the zenith; the next
it had broken and rippled back like a brook of light to its arch over
the Great Bear. Never for an instant was it still. Its restlessness
stole away the quiet of the evening; but left it magnificent.

In comparison with this coruscating dome of the infinite the earth had
shrunken to a narrow black band of velvet, in which was nothing
distinguishable until suddenly the sky-line broke in calm silhouettes
of spruce and firs. And always the mighty River of the Moose,
gleaming, jewelled, barbaric in its reflections, slipped by to the
sea.