been able
to summon it again by a mere act of the will, by a determination to be
resolute, not to be downcast, never to allow herself so much as to
imagine ultimate failure. To-night, although she told herself that her
depression was the result of physical fatigue, and fought with all her
strength to conquer the hopelessness of the mood, she found herself in
the end prostrate under the weight of thoughts heavier than the spirit
could bear.

She sat there for an hour; then, still shivering, prepared to rake the
ashes over the remains of the fire and go to bed. It occurred to her
suddenly that before closing things up below she would see if Madam Chase
were asleep, or if she might need something hot to drink again, as
sometimes happened. She went wearily upstairs, her candle flickering in
the narrow passageway. It seemed, somehow, as if the whole house were
full of small conflicting winds pressing into it through every loose
window-frame and under each sunken threshold.

She stooped over the bed, the candle-light falling on the small, white
face. White--how white! With all its delicate fairness, had it ever
looked like this before? With a sudden fear clutching at her heart she
held the little flame lower....

She groped her way half-blindly down the stairs, the candle left behind.
As she reached the foot a stamping sounded upon the porch outside the
living-room door. She ran toward it,--never had sound of human approach
been so madly welcome. Before she could reach the door a knock fell upon
it.

She wrenched at the latch, finding the door frozen into place, as it had
been all through this weather. She tugged in vain for a moment, then a
voice called from the other side:

"Look out! I'm going to push!"

With a catch in her throat, her heart pounding even more wildly than it
had done before, she stood aside. What voice was that? It couldn't be
possible, of course, but it had sounded like one she knew in its every
inflection, one which did not belong to any of her nearby friends. It
could not be possible--it could not--but--

The door crashed open, and a mound of snow fell in with it. Striding in
over the snow came a tall figure in an enveloping great coat, covered
with white from head to foot, the face ruddy and smiling.

CHAPTER XVII

FROM THE BEGINNING

John Leaver turned and tried to close the door, but the mound of snow
prevented. The wind was sweeping in with fury. "Go away from it," he
commande