"I declare, my dear," she said, pinching Joscelyn's cheek, "you are so beautifully behaved of late that I begin to find you a bit tiresome. Methinks I must stir up Amanda Bryce to pay you a visit and talk over the war, or else we'll all be stagnating for lack of excitement." "Well, after these eight years of fermentation, stagnation is just now the special estate to which I aspire." "So? Well, Richard here prefers the estate of matrimony. Is it not true, my lad?" And from the sofa Richard's eyes said yes; whereupon the old lady went on, nodding her head with mock solemnity, "And since one of you wants stagnation and one wants matrimony, I am not so sure but that you are of the same mind, for some folk find these things of a piece. And so, miss, you may have come around to Richard's way of thinking after all." And seeing Joscelyn stiffen, Richard was sorry that the conversation had taken such a personal turn; for the two had come in to pay him a visit. That was one thing that troubled him--she never came by herself; always it was her mother or Betty or Janet Cameron she brought with her as though she feared to trust herself alone with him, wishing, perchance, to hear no more of his love-making. And even with these others she came so seldom. He could not go to her, for the hard rough journey home had racked his arm and set the fever to throbbing again in his blood, and he must remain quiet, or dire consequences were threatened. But one February night, when she had stayed away several days, and the longing in his breast grew unbearable, he sent for her. The wind without howled like some hungry creature seeking its prey, and the white-fingered spirit of the snowstorm tapped weirdly at his window. But he gave it no heed; storm or shine, he must see her this night of all others; and so a word of entreaty was sent across the street. She came at once, a brilliant apparition in a scarlet shawl over which the snow lay powdered in shining crystals; on her lips and in her eyes the smile of which he had dreamed in the copper and crimson sunsets on the prison-ship. He gathered her cold hands into his feverish ones. "You knew I must see you this night?" "Yes; I felt you would send for me, for I knew we were thinking of the same things." "A year ago to-night you and I stood in jeopardy of our lives." She nodded; all day she had been living over those fearful hours of which this day was the anniversary. "Yes, a year ago to-night Tarleton held us in his toils." "We have never talked of that dreadful time; now I want you to tell me everything you can recall of it. Sit down."