ths whence he had so mysteriously appeared.

CHAPTER VIII

GREY'S LAST WORDS

Rigid, hideous, stands the Leonville school-house sharply outlined
against the sky, upon the summit of a high, rising ground. It stands
quite alone as though in proud distinction for its classic vocation.
Its flat, uninteresting sides; its staring windows; its high-pitched
roof of warped shingles; its weather-boarding, innocent of paint; its
general air of neglect; these things strike one forcibly in that
region of Nature's carefully-finished handiwork.

However, its cheerless aspect was for the moment rendered less
apparent than usual by reason of many people gathered about the
storm-porch, and the number and variety of farmers' sleighs grouped
about the two tying-posts which stood by the roadside in front of it
An unbroken level of smooth prairie footed one side of the hill,
whilst at the back of the house stretched miles of broken, hilly
woodland.

The wedding party had arrived from Loon Dyke Farm. Hephzibah Malling
had gathered her friends together, and all had driven over for the
happy event amidst the wildest enthusiasm and excited anticipation.
Each girl, clad in her brightest colours beneath a sober outer
covering of fur, was accompanied by her attendant swain, the latter
well oiled about the hair and well bronzed about the face, and glowing
as an after-effect of the liberal use of soap and water. A wedding was
no common occurrence, and, in consequence, demanded special mark of
appreciation. No work would be done that day by any of those who
attended the function.

But the enthusiasm of the moment had died out at the first breath of
serious talk--talk inspired by the non-appearance of the bridegroom.
The hour of the ceremony was close at hand and still he had not
arrived. He should have been the first upon the scene. The elders were
agitated, the younger folk hopeful and full of excuses for the belated
groom, the Minister fingered his great silver timepiece nervously. He
had driven over from Lakeville, at much inconvenience to himself, to
officiate at the launching of his old friend's daughter upon the high
seas of wedded life.

The older ladies had rallied to Mrs. Malling's side. The younger
people held aloof. There was an ominous grouping and eager whispering,
and eyes were turned searchingly upon the grey trail which stretched
winding away towards the western horizon.

The Rev. Charles Danvers, the Methodist minis