Margaret Maliphant

								

and lull my fears to rest by myself. I crept into the hall quietly and
fetched a cloak and hood, and then, running round to the yard, I called
the St. Bernard. He came, leaping and jumping upon me, this friend with
whom I was always in tune. I opened the gate gently, and together we
went out upon the road.
I think Taff and I must have walked three miles. The roads were stiff
and slippery, the air was like a knife; but I did not care. The quick
movement and the solitude and the quiet of the coming night soothed
me. We got up upon the downs where lonely homesteads stud the country
here and there, and came back again along the cliffs that crown the
marsh-land. There I stood a long while face to face with the quiet
world upon which the moon had now risen in the deep blue of a twilight
sky. It looked down upon the wide, white marsh upon whose frozen bosom
gray vapors floated lightly; it looked down upon the dark town that
rose yonder so sombre and distinct out of the mystery of the landscape;
the channel that flows to the sea lay cold and blue and motionless at
the foot of the hill like a sheet of steel. It made me shudder. There
was not a ripple upon its deathly breast. The snow around was far more
tender. For the first time in my life I felt the sadness of the world;
I realized that there was something in it which I could not understand;
I remembered that there was such a thing as death.

CHAPTER VII.

I did not escape Mr. Hoad by my walk. He had stayed to tea. I do not
think that he was a favorite of mother's, but she always made a great
point of welcoming all father's friends to the house, and I saw that
she had welcomed him to-night. He sat in the place of honor beside
her, and there were sundry alterations on the tea-table, and a pot of
special marmalade in the middle.
It was very late when I came in. I took off my things in the hall and
went in without smoothing my hair. I thought I should have been in
disgrace for coming in late, and for having my hair in disorder when a
guest was present; but mother had forgotten her displeasure, and smiled
as she pushed my cup towards me. She never made any allusion to by-gone
differences--her anger never lasted long.
The mood that I had brought with me from without was still upon me, and
when I saw that father's face had lost its gray pallor, that his eyes
shone with their usual fire, and that his voice was strong and healthy,
I sighed a sigh of relief and told myself that I was a fool, and that
Mr. Hoad must really be a good fellow if he could so soon chase away
the gloom from my parent's brow.
"Your husband looks wonderfully well again, Mrs. Maliphant," he was
saying; "it's quite surprising how soon he has pulled round. When I met
the doctor the other day driving from town, and stopped to ask after
him, he said it would be weeks before he could be about again. But he
has got a splendid constitution--must have. Not that I would wish to