before he
added: "However, I envy you your confidence; I liked the man."

"The worst of it is that the matter may go dragging on until it wears
Gertrude and her father out," Mrs. Colston remarked. "It would be a
relief in some ways to learn the truth, however bad it is."

"Mr. Prescott has no reason to dread the truth's coming out," said Muriel
staunchly.

Then a maid came in to announce that their team was ready, and, putting
on her furs, Muriel went down in advance of the others to see that her
purchases had been placed together. After she had gone, Mrs. Colston
looked at her husband.

"I think it would be advisable to mention Prescott as seldom as
possible."

"So do I," Colston agreed. "I wonder whether you have noticed anything
unusual in the relations between Muriel and Gertrude of late? They used
to be good friends in England."

"I have remarked some signs of strain. But it is not a matter you could
be expected to take an interest in."

"Of course," Colston rejoined deprecatingly, and went down with his wife.

Leslie's team and a smart sleigh, which Jernyngham had had sent out from
Toronto, stood at the door, and after he had helped his wife and Muriel
in, Colston took the reins. When they had jolted across the track, the
snow was beaten smooth along the trail; the team was fresh after resting,
and it was a brilliant night. They set off at an exhilarating speed, and
though their faces tingled they kept warm beneath their furs and
driving-robes. Far in front of them spread the prairie, gleaming white
beneath the moon; no cloud stained the vault of soft deep blue, and the
drumming of the hoofs rang out in merry rhythm. The crisp cold, which was
less marked than usual, stirred the blood.

They passed a buggy, drawn by a good horse, and later a light wagon, for
the snow does not, as a rule, lie deep on the western prairie and the
farmers largely continue the use of wheels. After that for some time they
were alone on the waste, until as they approached a tract of broken
country a wagon appeared on the crest of a rise, with the double span of
horses in front of it cutting sharply black against the snow. It came on
slowly, heavily loaded with bags of grain, and then the dark shape of a
man who walked beside the team grew visible. As they came closer, Colston
turned his horses out of the trail to let the wagon pass, and then
started as the moonlight fell on the teamster's face. It was Prescott.

For a moment h