gue impressions of each
succeeding interview had verged at last into a blazing focus, whence the
illumination of two youthful lives burst upon the view.

XVIII.

BRAIDING ST. CATHERINE'S TRESSES.

One incident of this eventful period must not be passed over in silence.
The reader himself will judge of its importance. It was the 25th
November, St. Catherine's Day. In Italy and the South of Europe, the
Virgin-Martyr is venerated as the patron of philosophical students, and
the collegiate bodies celebrate her festival with public disputations on
logical and metaphysical subjects. But in Belgium and France, the day is
kept as one of social rejoicing by the young, and in Canada, from the
earliest times, probably because it marks the closing day of the
navigation of the St. Lawrence and the beginning of the long dreary
winter, it is observed with song, dance, games, and other tokens of
revelry. One special feature is the making of taffy which the young
girls engage in during the evening, and with which they regale their
friends and lovers.

The day itself had been melancholy enough. Snow had fallen continually
until it had piled a foot high on the level roads. The wind howled
dismally around the gables, and the branches of a maple beat doleful
music against the window of Zulma's room. She felt the influence of the
inhospitable weather. A feeling of weariness weighed upon her from the
early hours of the morning. Nothing that she attempted to do could
distract her mind or dispel her loneliness. The book which she had taken
up over and over again lay with its face down upon the table. The
harpsichord was open, but the music on its rack was tossed and tumbled.
Zulma was a good musician and passionately fond of her instrument, but
could not abide it when her spirits were depressed. She used to declare
that, even in her best moods, the simplest melody had for her a tinge of
sadness, which, when she herself was sorrowful, became a positive pain.

She scarcely left her room during the whole day. The house was silent
and could afford her no relief. There was nobody stirring in the
courtyard or around the kitchen. Even the great watch dog had retired to
sleep in his kennel. The snow fell noiselessly, curtaining out all the
world; the line of the sky was low and leaden, and nothing was heard to
break the death-like stillness of the air, save occasional gusts of wind
sullenly booming in the hollows.

If Zulma could have sl