it is a poor contemptible sort of love."

Philip laughed; and just then the door opened, and the hostess of the
inn appeared on the threshhold, with other figures looming dimly behind
her. She came in apologizing. More storm-bound travellers had
arrived--there was no other room with a fire ready--would monsieur and
madame be so gracious and allow the strangers to come in and get warm
and dry by their fire? Almost before she had finished her speech the
two men had sprung towards each other, and "Tom!"--"Philip
DilIwyn!"--had been cried in different tones of surprised greeting.

"Where did you come from?" said Tom, shaking his friend's hand. "What a
chance! Here is my wife. Arabella, this is Mr. Dillwyn, whose name you
have heard often enough. At the top of this pass!--"

The lady thus addressed came in behind Tom, throwing off her wrappings,
and throwing each, or dropping it as it was taken off, into the hands
of her attendant who followed her. She appeared now to be a slim
person, of medium height, dressed very handsomely, with an
insignificant face, and a quantity of light hair disposed in a
mysterious manner to look like a wig. That is, it looked like nothing
natural, and yet could not be resolved by the curious eye into bands or
braids or any defined form of fashionable art or artifice. The face
looked fretted, and returned Mr. Dillwyn's salutation discontentedly.
Tom's eye meanwhile had wandered, with an unmistakeable air of
apprehension, towards the fourth member of the party; and Lois came
forward now, giving him a frank greeting, and holding out her hand. Tom
bowed very low over it, without saying one word; and Philip noted that
his eye shunned Lois's face, and that his own face was all shadowed
when he raised it. Mr. Dillwyn put himself in between.

"May I present my wife, Mrs. Caruthers?"

Mrs. Caruthers gave Lois a look, swift and dissatisfied, and turned to
the fire, shivering.

"Have we got to stay here?" she asked querulously.

"We couldn't go on, you know," said Tom. "We may be glad of any sort of
a shelter. I am afraid we are interfering with your comfort, Philip;
but really, we couldn't help it. The storm's awful outside. Mrs.
Caruthers was sure we should be overtaken by an avalanche; and then she
was certain there must be a crevasse somewhere. I wonder if one can get
anything to eat in this place?"

"Make yourself easy; they have promised us dinner, and you shall share
with us. What the dinner