are years
and years. I've feared it as I've feared nothing else. And now--oh,
it's dreadful. Say, child, for your father's sake leave Bell River out
of your thoughts, out of your talk. Never mention that you think of
any secret. As I said, 'forget it.'"

Her mother's distress, and obvious dread impressed the girl seriously.
She nodded her head.

"I'll never speak of it, mother," she assured her. "I'll try to forget
it. But why--oh, why should he make you endure these years of
nightmare? I----"

Her mother abruptly held up a finger.

"Hush! There's Father Jose."

There was the sharp rattle of a lifted latch, and the slam-to of the
outer storm door. They heard the stamping of feet as the priest freed
his overshoes of snow. A moment later the inner door was pushed open.

Father Jose greeted them out of the depths of his fur coat collar.

"A bad night, ma'am," he said gravely. "The folks on the trail will
feel it--cruel."

The little man divested himself of his coat.

"The folk on the trail? Is there any news?" Ailsa Mowbray's tone said
far more than her mere words.

Jessie had risen from her chair and crossed to her mother's side. She
stood now with a hand resting on the elder woman's shoulder. And the
priest, observing them as he advanced to the stove, and held his hands
to the comforting warmth, was struck by the twin-like resemblance
between them.

Their beauty was remarkable. The girl's oval cheeks were no more
perfect in general outline than her mother's. Her sweet gray eyes were
no softer, warmer. The youthful lips, so ripe and rich, only possessed
the advantage of her years. The priest remembered Allan Mowbray's wife
at her daughter's age, and so he saw even less difference between them
than time had imposed.

"That's what I've been along up to see Alec at the store for. Alec's
gone out with a dog team to bear a hand--if need be."

The white-haired man turned his back on the stove and faced the
spacious room. He withdrew a snuffbox from his semi-clerical vest
pocket, and thoughtfully tapped it with a forefinger. Then he helped
himself to a large pinch of snuff. As far as the folks on Snake River
knew this was the little priest's nearest approach to vice.

"Alec gone out? You never told us?" Ailsa Mowbray's eyes searched the
sharp profile of the man, whose face was deliberately averted. "Tell
me," she demanded. "You've had news. Bad? Is it bad? Tell me! Tell
me quick