an incomprehensible fear seemed to come upon her. For all the
stir and impulse of the melody, a strange but exquisite sadness engulfed
her spirit. In that single instant the North drew aside its curtains of
mystery and showed her its secret altar. For a breath at least she knew
its soul,--its travail, its dreadful beauty, its infinite sadness, its
merciless strength.

In her time Virginia had now and then known the fear of Death. Two
nights previous, as the waters had engulfed her, she had known it very
well. But never before had she known fear of life. That's what it
was--fear of _life_--life that could only cost and could not pay, that
could take and could not give, that could pain but could not heal. She
knew now the dreadful persecution of the elements, cold and storm and
the snow fields stretching ever from range to range. She knew the fear
of hunger, of struggle to break the spirit and rend the body, of
disaster that could not be turned aside, of cruel and immutable destiny.
She knew now why the waterfowl had circled all day so restlessly: they
too had known the age-old fear of the northern winter. They had sensed,
in secret ways, the swift approach of the storm.

Winter was at hand. It would lock the streams and sweep the land with
snow, the sun would grow feeble in the sky, and the spirit of Cold would
descend with its age-old terrors. And the creepy fear, the haunting
terror known to all northern creatures, man or beast, crept into her
like a subtle poison.

It was a moment of enchantment. The music rose high, fell in soaring
leaps, trembled in infinite appeal, and slowly died away. Outside the
storm increased in fury. The wind sobbed over the cabin roof, the trees
complained, the snow beat against the window pane. And still the spell
lingered. Her lustrous eyes gazed out through the darkened pane, but
her thoughts carried far beyond it.

And it was well for her peace of mind that she did not glance at Bill.
The music had moved him too: besides the fear of the North he had been
torn by even a deeper emotion, and for the instant it was written all to
clearly upon his rugged features. He was watching the girl's face, his
eyes yearning and wistful as no human being had ever seen them.

The soaring notes, with the dreadful accompaniment of the storm, had
brought home a truth to him that for days on the trail he had tried to
deny. "I love you, Virginia," cried the inaudible voice of his soul.