on's face was deathly white and full of rebellion as she looked
up in her father's, but she held herself still with a stern dignity
and did not struggle. David Hautville's will was up. His hand on her
soft arm was like a vise of steel. The memories of her childhood were
strong upon her. She knew of old that there was no appeal, and was
too proud to contend where she must yield.

"Take the bowl," said her father, when Abner extended it filled with
the steaming pudding--"take the bowl, and go you to your chamber. Eat
your supper, and get in to your bed and stay there till morning."

Madelon still looked at her father with that same look of speechless
but unyielding rebellion. She did not stir to take the bowl or go to
her chamber.

"Do as I bid ye!" ordered her father, in a great voice.

Madelon took the bowl from her brother's hand and went out of the
room as she was bid; and yet as she went they all knew that there was
no yielding in her.

Chapter VII

The next morning Madelon came down-stairs as usual and prepared
breakfast. When it was ready the family sat up to the table and ate
silently and swiftly. No one addressed a word to Madelon. After
breakfast David and his son Abner put on their leather jackets and
their fur caps, and set forth for the woods with their axes, but
Eugene lounged gracefully over to the hearth and sat down on the
settle, and began reading his Shakespeare book. Eugene was the only
one of the Hautvilles who ever read books. He studied faithfully the
few in the house--the Shakespeare, the _Pilgrim's Progress_, Milton,
and _Gulliver's Travels_. The others wondered at him. They could not
understand how any one who could handle a gun or a musical instrument
could lay finger on a book. "Made-up things," said Abner once, with a
scornful motion towards Shakespeare.

"No more made-up than fugue," retorted Eugene, hotly; but they all
cried out on him.

This morning Madelon cast one quick glance at him as he sauntered
over to the settle with his book. Then she did not look his way
again. She worked quietly, setting the kitchen to rights.

The day was very cold; the light in the room was dim and white, the
windows were coated so thickly with the hoar-frost. Eugene kept
stirring the fire and adding sticks as he read.

Finally, Madelon had finished her work in the kitchen, and went
up-stairs. Then Eugene arose reluctantly, went out into the cold
entry, and stood by the door with his book i