ved at
any distance within thirty miles, including a few farms of the Carrington
group, where, perhaps especially for Harry's sake, they made us welcome,
and we went twice to Carrington Manor. The second visit was a memorable
one.

It was a still, starlit night with an intense frost and a few pale green
streamers shimmering in the north, but the big main room of the Manor with
its open fireplace and central stove was very warm and snug. Our team was
safely stabled, for owing to the distance we could not well return that
night, and since the affair with the cattle thieves Colonel Carrington had
so far as in him lay been cordial. He sat beside the glowing birch logs,
silent and stern of aspect as usual, with a big shaggy hound which I had
seen roll over a coyote with a broken spine curled up against his knee,
while the firelight flickered redly across his lean, bronzed face.
Opposite sat his sister, who partly resembled him, though in her case the
Carrington dignity was softened by a winning sympathy. She was an old maid
of a fine but perhaps not common type, white-haired and stately, and in
all things gracious.

Harry, who was a favorite of hers, knelt with one knee on a wolf-skin rug,
turning over a collection of photographs on a low table that she might
see, and she smiled at some of his comments. Ormond leaned against the
wall behind them interposing whimsical sallies, and casting occasional
glances toward Grace and myself. Resigning his commission, he had lately,
we understood, purchased land near the Manor. One or two other of the
Colonel's subjects also were present. Being lighted with shaded lamps that
shed their soft radiance only where it was wanted, portions of the long
room remained in shadow, so Grace and I, sitting near one window, could
look out between the looped-back curtains across the prairie. High over
the sweep of dimly glimmering snow hung a vault of fathomless indigo. It
was not such a sky as one sees in England, but rather a clear transparency
where the stars, ranged one behind the other, led the gaze back and lost
it in infinity, while at intervals a steely scintillation flickered up
from horizon to zenith and then back again. Feathery frost-flowers on the
window framed the picture like a screen of delicate embroidery.

I do not think either of us said much, but I felt that we had a kindred
interest in the spectacle. Within there was warmth and light and life;
outside, impressive silence reigned