s he tucked the
buffalo robes around him he said: "Your horse is old, he might flounder
or lose his way in this storm. I will lead him."

The minister took the reins feebly in his hands and sat shivering with
the cold. Sometimes when there was a lull in the wind, he could see the
horse struggling through the snow with the man plodding steadily beside
him. Again the blowing snow would hide them from him altogether. He had
no idea where they were or what direction they were going. He felt as
though he were being whirled away in the heart of the storm, and he said
all the prayers he knew. But at last the long four miles were over, and
Canute set him down in the snow while he unlocked the door. He saw the
bride sitting by the fire with her eyes red and swollen as though
she had been weeping. Canute placed a huge chair for him, and said
roughly,--

"Warm yourself."

Lena began to cry and moan afresh, begging the minister to take her
home. He looked helplessly at Canute. Canute said simply,

"If you are warm now, you can marry us."

"My daughter, do you take this step of your own free will?" asked the
minister in a trembling voice.

"No, sir, I don't, and it is disgraceful he should force me into it! I
won't marry him."

"Then, Canute, I cannot marry you," said the minister, standing as
straight as his rheumatic limbs would let him.

"Are you ready to marry us now, sir?" said Canute, laying one iron hand
on his stooped shoulder. The little preacher was a good man, but like
most men of weak body he was a coward and had a horror of physical
suffering, although he had known so much of it. So with many qualms of
conscience he began to repeat the marriage service. Lena sat sullenly in
her chair, staring at the fire. Canute stood beside her, listening with
his head bent reverently and his hands folded on his breast. When the
little man had prayed and said amen, Canute began bundling him up again.

"I will take you home, now," he said as he carried him out and placed
him in his buggy, and started off with him through the fury of the
storm, floundering among the snow drifts that brought even the giant
himself to his knees.

After she was left alone, Lena soon ceased weeping. She was not of a
particularly sensitive temperament, and had little pride beyond that of
vanity. After the first bitter anger wore itself out, she felt nothing
more than a healthy sense of humiliation and defeat. She had no
inclination to run away, f