will be
sufficiently apparent before the end of this story is reached.

Then there was Miss Minnie Fay, sister to Mrs. Willoughby, and utterly
unlike her in every respect. Minnie was a blonde, with blue eyes,
golden hair cut short and clustering about her little head, little bit
of a mouth, with very red, plump lips, and very white teeth. Minnie
was very small, and very elegant in shape, in gesture, in dress, in
every attitude and every movement. The most striking thing about her,
however, was the expression of her eyes and her face. There was about
her brow the glory of perfect innocence. Her eyes had a glance of
unfathomable melancholy, mingled with childlike trust in the
particular person upon whom her gaze was fastened. Minnie was
considered by all her friends as a child--was treated as a
child--humored, petted, coaxed, indulged, and talked to as a child.
Minnie, on her part, thought, spoke, lived, moved, and acted as a
child. She fretted, she teased, she pouted, she cried, she did every
thing as a child does; and thus carried up to the age of eighteen the
bloom and charm of eight.

The two sisters were nieces of the Dowager Lady Dalrymple. Another
niece also accompanied them, who was a cousin of the two sisters. This
was Miss Ethel Orne, a young lady who had flourished through a London
season, and had refused any number of brilliant offers. She was a
brunette, with most wonderful dark eyes, figure of perfect grace, and
an expression of grave self-poise that awed the butterflies of
fashion, but offered an irresistible attraction to people of sense,
intellect, intelligence, esprit, and all that sort of thing--like you
and me, my boy.

I am taking up too much time and anticipating somewhat, I fear, by
these descriptions; so let us drop Miss Ethel.

These ladies being thus all related formed a family party, and had
made the journey thus far on the best of terms, without any other
escort than that which was afforded by their chaperon, general,
courier, guide, philosopher, friend, and Mentor--the Dowager Lady
Dalrymple.

The party was enlarged by the presence of four maids and a foreign
gentleman. This last-mentioned personage was small in stature, with a
very handsome face and very brilliant eyes. His frame, though slight,
was sinewy and well knit, and he looked like an Italian. He had come
on alone, and had passed the night at the station-house.

A track about six feet wide had been cut out through the snow, an