he day wore on, with a long interval
in Ottawa, where she dully waited in the station, the restaurant
permitting her to indulge in a comforting cup of coffee. All that she
saw of the town was from the train. There was a bridge above the
tracks, near the station, and on the outskirts there were winding and
frozen waterways on which some people skated. As she went on the land
seemed to take an even chillier aspect. The snow was very deep. Farms
and small villages were half buried in it. The automobiles and wheeled
conveyances of New York had disappeared. Here and there she could see
a sleigh, slowly progressing along roads, the driver heavily muffled
and the horse traveling in a cloud of vapor. When night came they were
already in a vast region of rock and evergreen trees, of swift running
rivers churning huge cakes of ice, and the dwellings seemed to be very
few and far between. The train passed through a few fairly large
towns, at first, and she noted that the people were unfamiliarly clad,
wearing much fur, and the inflections of their voices were strange to
her. By this time the train was running more slowly, puffing up long
grades and sliding down again with a harsh grinding of brakes that
seemed to complain. When the moon rose it shone over endless snow,
broken only by dim, solid-looking masses of conifers. Here and there
she could also vaguely discern rocky ledges upon which gaunt twisted
limbs were reminders of devastating forest fires. There were also
great smooth places that must have been lakes or the beds of wide
rivers shackled in ice overlaid with heavy snow. Whenever the door of
the car was opened a blast of cold would enter, bitingly, and she
shivered.

Came another morning which found her haggard with want of sleep and
broken with weariness. But she knew that she was getting very near the
place and all at once she began to dread the arrival, to wish vainly
that she might never reach her destination, and this feeling continued
to grow keener and keener.

Finally the conductor came over to her and told her that the train was
nearing her station. Obligingly he carried her bag close to the door
and she stood up beside him, swaying a little, perhaps only from the
motion of the car. The man looked at her and his face expressed some
concern but he remained silent until the train stopped.

Madge had put on her thin cloak. The frosted windows of the car spoke
of intense cold and the rays of the rising sun had n