Next morning, the sun, first a dull crimson, and then yellow as a copper ball, slowly mounted above the horizon and pierced cloud and vapour with its struggling rays. Snow-clad roofs and chimneys, whose quaint outlines could scarcely be distinguished from the leaden sky a short time before, now became flooded with a rich golden light, contrasting strangely with the blue mist that lingered in the shadows. As yet, it was only the high gables and towers which had caught the cheering beams; the streets and lesser thoroughfares were gloomy, dark, and silent, while ruts and gutters were fast bound with King Frost. The good people of Fridswold had not the reputation of being early risers, and with a few exceptions, the streets were almost totally deserted; but our friend who figured last night as a guest at the _George_, at least appeared to be no sluggard, for he was out, and walking quickly along, the iron-tipped heels of his riding-boots bringing forth a smart click from the frost-hardened ground. Lieutenant Ainslie was not bent upon sight-seeing; he had other matters to attend to. The wintery beauties of the early morning seemed completely lost upon the young officer, and he passed the great west front of the minster—all flecked with ‘hoary flakes’—without bestowing so much as a glance upon it. His course was continued until the irregular outskirts of the town were left behind, when a large imposing red-brick mansion came within sight. The grounds which surrounded it were separated from the public highway by a substantial wall of rough masonry; while parallel with this wall extended a belt of fine trees, now leafless, and shivering as if with cold. Keeping to the road until a turn shut out the palatial residence from view, the young officer, after a hasty look around him, vaulted the wall, and then shaped his way across the white stretch of private ground. Slowly and uncertainly he proceeded, often stopping to look back, and more than once referring to his watch as well as to a dainty note, the writing of which was in a delicate female hand. At length, after many turnings and much doubtful wandering, he emerged from the underwood and entered upon a small cleared inclosure containing a rustic summer-house, now fretted with a glittering network of snow and ice. Into this the lieutenant stepped, frequently looking out in a furtive manner from the narrow doorway, as if in expectation of some one.