she smiled, astonished at her own ease of manner in
the presence of this alarming guest.

"Then let's have that," he grumbled, taking the bowl she handed him,
with an odd look that made her glad to retreat to the other side of the
room.

"Jest listen to the howling wind," he went on between the huge mouthfuls
of bread and cheese with which he was gorging himself. "But we're very
comfortable, we two! We don't mind the storm, do we?"

Shocked by his familiarity and still more moved by the look of mingled
inquiry and curiosity with which his eyes now began to wander over the
walls and cupboards, she hurried to the window overlooking her nearest
neighbour, and, lifting the shade, peered out. A swirl of snowflakes
alone confronted her. She could neither see her neighbours, nor could
she be seen by them. A shout from her to them would not be heard. She
was as completely isolated as if the house stood in the centre of a
desolate western plain.

"I have no trust but in God," she murmured as she came from the window.
And, nerved to meet her fate, she crossed to the kitchen.

It was now half-past ten. Two hours and a half must elapse before her
husband could possibly arrive.

She set her teeth at the thought and walked resolutely into the room.

"Are you done?" she asked.

"I am, ma'am," he leered. "Do you want me to wash the dishes? I kin, and
I will." And he actually carried his plate and cup to the sink, where he
turned the water upon them with another loud guffaw.

"If only his fancy would take him into the pantry," she thought, "I
could shut and lock the door upon him and hold him prisoner till Ned
gets back."

But his fancy ended its flight at the sink, and before her hopes had
fully subsided he was standing on the threshold of the sitting-room
door.

"It's pretty here," he exclaimed, allowing his eye to rove again over
every hiding-place within sight. "I wonder now----" He stopped. His
glance had fallen on the cupboard over her husband's desk.

"Well?" she asked, anxious to break the thread of his thought, which was
only too plainly mirrored in his eager countenance.

He started, dropped his eyes, and, turning, surveyed her with a
momentary fierceness. But, as she did not let her own glance quail, but
continued to meet his gaze with what she meant for an ingratiating
smile, he subdued this outward manifestation of passion, and, chuckling
to hide his embarrassment, began backing into the entry, leering in