ough a hard adventure, and
that it was his part to smooth her way. The bond of difficulties to
overcome united them. They felt the intimacy of a single absorbing
interest. They had nothing to think of but accomplishing their task,--of
that and of each other. As far as they could see were snow and black
trunks of trees. They scarcely remembered that any one but themselves
existed.

Now justly he could admire something besides her beauty. Her courage
warmed his heart. Yet with all her spirit she made no attempt to assert
her independence. She turned to him at every point. He guided her past
the scenes of his own disasters and saved her from the mistakes he had
already made.

But only for a little while did they move forward in this delightful
exhilaration. Before they had gone far she grew silent, and when she did
answer him spoke less spontaneously. She asked for neither help nor
encouragement, but plunged along as steadily as she was able. Her
skirts, however, wet and heavy, hampered her desperately, and the
exertion of walking through the thick snow began to tell. Geoffrey made
her stop every now and then for a breathing spell, but at length she
stopped of herself.

"Have we done half yet?" she asked.

"Just about," he answered, stretching truth in order to encourage her.
But he saw at once that he had failed,--that she had had a hope that
they were nearer their destination--that she began to doubt her own
powers. Presently she moved forward again in silence.

He began to be alarmed lest they should never reach his house, yet took
comfort in the thought, as he looked at her, that whatever strength she
had, she would use to the end. No hysterical despair would exhaust her
beforehand. She would not fail through lack of determination. Whether or
not she were the confederate of a thief she was a brave woman, yes, and
a beautiful one, he thought, looking down upon her in the glare of the
snow.

Presently he held out his hand in silence, and she as silently took it.
This was to Geoffrey the explanation of his whole life. This was what
men were made for.

Once as they stood resting the wind, which fortunately had been at their
backs the entire trip, hurled her against him, where she remained an
instant, too weak to move. It was he who set her gently on her feet
again.

The latter part of the journey she made almost wholly by his help, and
when they stood before the piazza, she could not have managed the little
ste