ty and she heard cheerful voices and the jingle of
sleigh-bells on the road. The moon was nearly full and riding parties
were going out for a drive across the glittering snow, while where the
wind had swept it clear ice yachts were, no doubt, skimming about the
lake. Agatha envied the happy people who could enjoy such sports, and it
had cost her something to admit that they were not for her. A ticket for
a concert to which she had thought of going was stuck in a picture
frame, but she was not in the humor for music, and putting down the book
she held, leaned back languidly in her chair.

The room was small, plainly furnished, and shadowy, for the lamp had a
deep shade that confined the light to a narrow circle. Three or four
books lay upon the table and a map of the North-West Territories
occupied the end in front of Agatha. It was not a very good map and the
natural features of the country were sketchily indicated, for belts of
the northern wilderness had not been thoroughly surveyed, but she had
opened it for half an hour's relaxation. After that, she must get to
work.

She was not very strong yet, but had undertaken extra duties that
necessitated private study. Now she felt tired after lecturing a class
of absent-minded girls, and closing her eyes, abandoned herself to moody
thought. George's warning was bearing fruit. Agatha was young, but knew
one soon got jaded and youth slipped away. There was a risk of her
spending in unrewarded efforts the years that ought to be happiest, and
then finding herself old and soured. Still, when she came to think of
it, she had recognized this and felt a vague dissatisfaction with her
lot before George had talked to her. In fact, the dissatisfaction had
begun soon after she wandered through the bush and paddled about the
lake with Thirlwell.

For all that, she was not going to give up the resolve she had made long
ago. She owed her father much, and must carry out the task he had
unconsciously left her. She meant to search the country he had traveled
for the silver vein; and then, if she was persuaded it could not be
found, she would have paid her debt and be free to lead the life that
others led. In the meantime, she was, so to speak, set apart, like a
nun, from common joys and sorrows by a vow that must be kept. Perhaps
this was an exaggeration, but it was partly true.

Banishing her thoughts, she put away the map and opened her book, but
soon afterwards a servant brought in a