she dwelt upon the tone in which he spoke more than upon all the uttered
words of the others.

Later in the evening he joined her in the sitting-room, which, for the
moment, was deserted by the others, and she spoke of the wintry gloom of
the mountains, and how Leonard was fond of making the forbidding aspect a
foil for Maggie's room. Webb smiled as he replied:

"That is just like Len. Maggie's room is the centre of his world, and he
sees all things in their relation to it. I also was out this afternoon,
and I took my gun, although I did not see a living thing to fire at. But
the 'still, cold woods,' as you term them, were filled with a beauty and
suggestiveness of which I was never conscious before. I remembered how
different they had appeared in past summers and autumns, and I saw how
ready they were for the marvellous changes that will take place in a few
short weeks. The hillsides seemed like canvases on which an artist had
drawn his few strong outlines which foretold the beauty to come so
perfectly that the imagination supplied it."

"Why, Webb, I did not know you had so much imagination."

"Nor did I, and I am glad that I am discovering traces of it. I have always
loved the mountains, because so used to them--they were a part of my life
and surroundings--but never before this winter have I realized they were so
beautiful. When I found that you were going up among the hills, I thought I
would go also, and then we could compare our impressions."

"It was all too dreary for me," said the young girl, in a low tone. "It
reminded me of the time when my old life ceased, and this new life had
not begun. There were weeks wherein my heart was oppressed with a cold,