as he does. Cyril was my only brother; I
was very fond of him."

Her voice trembled a little, though her eyes were hard, and Prescott felt
sorry for her. She was not of emotional nature; he could imagine her
shrinking from any display of tenderness. Nevertheless, it was obvious
that she was a prey to fear and grief.

"So was I," he said. "I wonder if I may point out that he struck me as
being different from you and your father?"

"I think I know what you mean. Cyril was like my mother--she died a long
while ago, but I remember her as gentle, sympathetic, and perhaps more
variable than I am. Cyril was swayed by feeling rather than by judgment."

Prescott knew this was correct, but he found his companion an interesting
study. She was wrapped up in cold propriety; she must have led an
uneventful life, looked up to and obeyed by the small community that
owned her father's rule. Romance could not have touched her; she was not
imaginative; but he thought there were warmth and passion lying dormant
somewhere in her nature. She could not have wholly escaped the
consequences of being Cyril Jernyngham's sister.

Nothing further was said for a while, and presently the team toiled
through a belt of sandy ridges, furrowed by the wind, where the summits
were crested here and there by small jack-pines. Looking up as they
crossed one elevation, Gertrude noticed a wedge of small dark bodies
outlined against the soft blue sky.

"What are those?" she asked.

"Wild geese; the forerunners of the host that will soon come down from
the marshes by the Polar Sea."

"But do they go so far?"

He laughed.

"They cross this continent twice a year; up from the steaming lagoons on
the Gulf to the frozen muskegs of the North, and back again. They're
filled with a grand unrest and wholly free; travelers of the high air,
always going somewhere."

"Ah!" responded Gertrude. "To be always doing something is good. But the
other--the ceaseless wandering----"

"Going on and on, beating a passage through the icy winds, rejoicing in
the sun, seeking for adventure. Is there no charm in that?"

She looked at him uneasily, as if his words had awakened some
half-understood response.

"I think Cyril must have felt something of the kind. So far it has never
stirred me. Isn't it wise to hold fast by what is safe and familiar?"

"Oh, I don't know," Prescott answered with a smile. "I follow the course
you mention, because I have to. It's my business t