CHAPTER II.





"COME, Fanny," said Mr. Wilmer Voss, speaking to his wife, "you must
get to bed. It is past twelve o'clock, and you cannot bear this loss
of rest and sleep. It may throw you all back again."

The woman addressed was sitting in a large easychair with a shawl
drawn closely about her person. She had the pale, shrunken face and
large, bright eyes of a confirmed invalid. Once very beautiful, she
yet retained a sweetness of expression which gave a tenderness and
charm to every wasted feature. You saw at a glance the cultured
woman and the patient sufferer.

As her husband spoke a fierce blast of wind drove the fine sand-like
snow against the windows, and then went shrieking and roaring away
over housetops, gables and chimneys.

"Oh what a dreadful night!" said the lady, leaning forward in her
chair and listening to the wild wail of the storm, while a look of
anxiety, mingled with dread, swept across her face. "If Archie were
only at home!"

"Don't trouble yourself about Archie. He'll be here soon. You are
not yourself to-night, Fanny."