nd went down again to
the shed and there he lay upon his face and clasped his hands above
his head and whispered her name. It was as if his heart were beating
itself against prison walls and the clasped hands were stained with
blood.

He rose next morning, haggard and pale. The snow was
falling--falling--softly and silently. It fell like lead upon his
heart, so full of anxiety was he for the good friend who might even
then be climbing up the trail. Madam Manovska observed his drawn face,
and thought he suffered only from anxiety and tried to comfort him.
Amalia also attempted to cover her own anxiety by assurances that the
good St. Christopher who watches over travelers would protect Larry
Kildene, because he knew so well how many dangers there were, and that
he, who had carried the Christ with all his burden of sorrows could
surely keep "Sir Kildene" even through the snows of winter. In spite
of an inherent and trained disbelief in all supposed legends,
especially as tenets of faith, Harry felt himself comforted by her
talk, yet he could not forbear questioning her as to her own faith in
them.

"Do you truly believe all that, Amalia?"

"All--that--? Of what--Mr. 'Arry?" She seemed truly mystified.

"I mean those childish legends of the saints you often quote?"

Amalia laughed. "You think I have learn them of the good sisters in my
convent, and is no truth in them?"

"Why--I guess that's about it. Did your father believe them?"

"Maybe no. But my father was 'devoue'--very--but he had a very wide
thought of God and man--a thought reaching far out--to--I find it very
hard to explain. If but you understood the French, I could tell
you--but for me, I have my father's faith and it makes me glad to play
in my heart with these legends--as you call them."

He gave her a quick, appealing glance, then turned his gaze away. "Try
to explain. Your English is beautiful."

"If you eat your breakfast, then will I try."

"Yes, yes, I will. You say he had faith reaching far out--to where--to
what?"

"He said there would never be rest in all the universe until we find
everywhere God,--living--creating--moving forever in the--the--all."
She held out her hands and extended her arms in an encompassing
movement indescribably full of grace.

"You mean he was a pantheist?"

"Oh, no, no. That is to you a horror, I see, but it was not that."
She laughed again, so merrily that Harry laughed, too. But still he
persisted, "Amalia--