for his coming. But be came not. As night fell the cold grew intense;
deadly, clear, and still, with the stars shining brilliantly in the
steel-blue of the sky. Silver wandered from window to window, wrapped
in her fur mantle; a hundred times, a thousand times she had scanned
the ice-fields and the snow, the lake and the shore. When the night
closed down, she crept close to the old man who sat by the fire in
silence, pretending to mend his nets, but furtively watching her every
movement. 'Papa,' she whispered, 'where is he, where is he?' And her
tears fell on his hands.

'Silver,' he said, bending over her tenderly, 'do I not love you? Am I
not enough for you? Think, dear, how long we have lived here and how
happy we have been. He was only a stranger. Come, let us forget him,
and go back to the old days.'

'What! Has he gone, then? Has Jarvis gone?'

Springing to her feet she confronted him with clinched hands and
dilated eyes. Of all the words she had heard but one; he had gone! The
poor old man tried to draw her down again into the shelter of his
arms, but she seemed turned to stone, her slender form was rigid.
'Where is he? Where is Jarvis? What have you done with him,--you,
you!'

The quick unconscious accusation struck to his heart. 'Child,' he said
in a broken voice, 'I tried to keep him. I would have given him my
place in your love, in your life, but he would not. He has gone, he
cares not for you; he is a hard, evil man.'

'He is not! But even if he were, I love him,' said the girl,