dith Cary. Dundee's hoofs beat it out on the frosty ground.
_Judith Cary--Judith Cary--Judith Cary!_ He thought of Greenwood, of the
garden there, of a week last summer, of Maury Stafford--Stafford whom at
first meeting he had thought most likable! He did not think him so
to-night, there at Silver Hill, ready to go to Lauderdale
to-morrow!--_Judith Cary--Judith Cary--Judith Cary._ He saw Stafford
beside her--Stafford beside her--Stafford beside her--

"If she love him," said Cleave, half aloud, "he must be worthy. I will
not be so petty nor so bitter! I wish her happiness.--_Judith
Cary--Judith Cary._ If she love him--"

To the left a little stream brawled through frosty meadows; to the right
rose a low hill black with cedars. Along the southern horizon stretched
the Blue Ridge, a wall of the Titans, a rampart in the night. The line
was long and clean; behind it was an effect of light, a steel-like
gleaming. Above blazed the winter stars. "If she love him--if she love
him--" He determined that to-night at Lauderdale he would try to see her
alone for a minute. He would find out--he must find out--if there were
any doubt he would resolve it.

The air was very still and clear. He heard a carriage before him on the
road. It was coming toward him--a horseman, too, evidently riding beside
it. Just ahead the road crossed a bridge--not a good place for passing
in the night-time. Cleave drew a little aside, reining in Dundee. With a
hollow rumbling the carriage passed the streams. It proved to be an
old-fashioned coach with lamps, drawn by strong, slow grey horses.
Cleave recognized the Silver Hill equipage. Silver Hill must have been
supping with Lauderdale. Immediately he divined who was the horseman.
The carriage drew alongside, the lamps making a small ring of light.
"Good-evening, Mr. Stafford!" said Cleave. The other raised his hat.
"Mr. Cleave, is it not? Good-evening, sir!" A voice spoke within the
coach. "It's Richard Cleave now! Stop, Ephraim!"

The slow grey horses came to a stand. Cleave dismounted, and came, hat
in hand, to the coach window. The mistress of Silver Hill, a young
married woman, frank and sweet, put out a hand. "Good-evening, Mr.
Cleave! You are on your way to Lauderdale? My sister and Maury Stafford
and I are carrying Judith off to Silver Hill for the night.--She wants
to give you a message--"

She moved aside and Judith took her place--Judith in fur cap and cloak,
her beautiful face just lit by