the stairway, and started for
the door.

"No, let Cuff go," said Elizabeth, sitting down on a settle that stood
with its back to the side of the staircase. "You start a fire in the
room next mine, for aunt Sally. She'll be over from the parsonage in a
few minutes."

Williams thereupon departed in quest of the stable key, inwardly
devoured by a mighty curiosity as to the wherefore of Elizabeth's
presence here in the company of none but her affianced, and also the
wherefore of that gentleman's manifest depression of spirits. His
curiosity was not lessened when the major called after him:

"Tell Cuff he may feed my horse, but not take the saddle off. I must
ride back to New York as soon as the beast is rested."

"Why," said Elizabeth to Colden, "you may stay for a bite of supper."

"No, thank you! I am not hungry."

"A glass of wine, then," said the girl, quite heedless of his tone;
"if there is any left in the house."

"No wine, I thank you!" Colden stood motionless, too far back in the
hall to receive much light from the feeble candle, like a shadowy
statue of the sulks.

"As you will!"

Whereupon Elizabeth, as if she had satisfied her conscience regarding
what was due from her in the name of hospitality, rose, and opened the
door to the east parlor.

"Ugh! How dark and lonely the house is! No wonder aunt Sally chose to
live at the parsonage." After one look into the dark apartment, she
closed the door. "Well, I'll warm up the place a bit. Sorry you can't
stay with us, major."

"It is only you who send me away," said Colden, dismally and
reproachfully. "I could have got longer leave of absence. You let me
escort you here, because no gentleman of your family will lend himself
to your reckless caprice. And then, having no further present use for
me, you send me about my business!"

Elizabeth, preferring to pace the hall until her chamber should be
heated, and her aunt should arrive, was striking her cloak with her
riding-whip at each step; not that the cloak needed dusting, but as a
method of releasing surplus energy.

"But I do have further present use for you," she said. "You are going
back to New York to inform my dear timid parents and sisters and
brothers that I've arrived here safe. They'll not sleep till you tell
them so."

"One of your slaves might bear that news as well," quoth the major.

"Well, are you not forever calling yourself my slave? Besides, my
devotion to King George won't let me we