"Why, bless youh soul! I wouldn't
think of letting you go from undeh my roof in such weatheh as this! Tell
him it's his duty to stay, Ardea, my deah; persuade him that he'll neveh
have a betteh oppo'tunity to wrestle with the wickedest old sinner in
Paradise Valley."

Young Mr. Morelock objected, zealously at first, but less strenuously
when Ardea drew the sash curtain and showed him the ice crust already an
inch thick, coating tree trunk and twig, grass blade and graveled
driveway.

"I doubt very much if the horses could keep their footing; and it is
quite out of the question for you to walk to Gordonia," she decided. "We
have the long-distance, and you can explain matters to Doctor Channing."

The young man called up St. Michael's rectory and explained first, and
smoked companionably with the Major in the library afterward. Further
along, there was a one-sided discussion polemical, it being meat and
drink to Major Caspar to ensnare a young theologian to his discomfiture
in the unaxiomatic field of religion. Ardea was in and out of the
library frequently while the discussion was in progress, but she had
little to say; indeed, there was scant room for a third when the Major
was once well warmed to his favorite relaxation. But Morelock remarked
as he might, in the few breathing-spaces allowed him by his host, that
Miss Dabney seemed restless and anxious about something, and that she
spent much of the time at the windows watching the steady growth of the
ice sheet.

After luncheon they all gathered in the deep-recessed window of the
music-room which commanded a view of the groved pasture with its
background of mountain slope and precipice. The rain was still falling,
and the temperature remained at the freezing-point, but the wind had
gone down and the slow, measured swaying of the trees under the weight
of the thickening armor of ice was portentous of disaster, if the
weather conditions should continue unchanged.

But as yet the storm was only in the magnificent stage. Far and near,
the outdoor world was a world of cold, white crystal, gleaming pure and
unsullied under the gray skies. Even the blackened tree trunks had their
shining panoply of silver; and from the eaves of the projecting window a
fringe of huge icicles was lengthening drop by drop.

Miss Euphrasia thought of her roses, already in leaf, and refused to be
enthusiastic over the supernal beauty of the crystalline stage settings.
Major Caspar was anxi