ched outside the guest-chamber till midnight was past. No
sound, not the faintest, could be heard. Could the old tale be
true of the midnight change? What was on the other side of the
door, a woman or a beast? he would have given his right hand to
know. Instinctively he laid his hand on the latch, and drew it
softly, though believing that bolts fastened the inner side. The
door yielded to his hand; he stood on the threshold; a keen gust
of air cut at him; the window stood open; the room was empty.

So Christian could sleep with a somewhat lightened heart.

In the morning there was surprise and conjecture when White Fell's
absence was discovered. Christian held his peace. Not even to his
brother did he say how he knew that she had fled before midnight;
and Sweyn, though evidently greatly chagrined, seemed to disdain
reference to the subject of Christian's fears.

The elder brother alone joined the bear hunt; Christian found
pretext to stay behind. Sweyn, being out of humour, manifested his
contempt by uttering not a single expostulation.

All that day, and for many a day after, Christian would never go
out of sight of his home. Sweyn alone noticed how he manoeuvred for
this, and was clearly annoyed by it. White Fell's name was never
mentioned between them, though not seldom was it heard in general
talk. Hardly a day passed but little Rol asked when White Fell
would come again: pretty White Fell, who kissed like a snowflake.
And if Sweyn answered, Christian would be quite sure that the
light in his eyes, kindled by White Fell's smile, had not yet died
out.

Little Rol! Naughty, merry, fairhaired little Rol. A day came when
his feet raced over the threshold never to return; when his
chatter and laugh were heard no more; when tears of anguish were
wept by eyes that never would see his bright head again: never
again, living or dead.

He was seen at dusk for the last time, escaping from the house
with his puppy, in freakish rebellion against old Trella. Later,
when his absence had begun to cause anxiety, his puppy crept back
to the farm, cowed, whimpering and yelping, a pitiful, dumb lump
of terror, without intelligence or courage to guide the frightened
search.

Rol was never found, nor any trace of him. Where he had perished
was never known; how he had perished was known only by an awful
guess--a wild beast had devoured him.

Christian heard the conjecture "a wolf"; and a horrible certainty
flashed upon him that