II It was a bitter cold night of the memorable winter with which this story is chiefly concerned. Gabrielle wore furs, which had been purchased in Quebec, and a hat which some upon the steamer had thought a little _outré_ for a parson's daughter. These furs she had just laid upon her bed, and was busy unpinning her hat when her father knocked at the door and asked if he might come in. She thought that he was more excited than he was wont to be in the old days, and there were blotches of crimson upon his usually sallow cheeks. "I am just going to bed," he said in a quiet tone; "if you want anything to eat, let Jane know. The room was very hot, I think--my head is aching." She turned with her hand still among the curls of her auburn hair, a wonderfully graceful figure for such a scene. "You must be very tired, dear," she said very gently. "I have never heard anything more beautiful than your speech." He took a step into the room, his hand upon the door. "Then you think it was a success, Gabrielle?" "I don't think at all about it; it was what Mr. Faber would have called 'electrical.'" He let go the door, and then shut it behind him. "Ah!" he said, as though thinking upon it, "if we could have had Faber with us." She laughed, showing the superb whiteness of her teeth. "The lion and the lamb. Why do you attach any importance to him?" He crossed the room to an arm-chair and sat there, poking the fire. "He is one of the men who can make peace or war," he said. "Sir Jules Achon agrees with me. Popular sentiment goes for much, but the men who control the destinies are the financiers." "But, father, how could Mr. Faber control this particular situation?" "He could set a great example of forbearance. Is he not rich enough?" She came and sat by him near the fire. It was yet early in the most memorable winter that England has ever known, but the cold had become intense. "I saw so little of Mr. Faber on the ship," she said reflectively; "he appeared to me to be a man who could move mountains ... with somebody else's arms, to say nothing of somebody's else's spades." "Was that your only impression of him?" "Oh! force--hardly of character, perhaps--that and his restlessness. Why did everyone talk of him? Was it because he is worth eleven millions of money? Was that all that could be said of him?" "A very good reason nowadays. They say he has a contract with the French Government for five millions of the new rifles. Permissible exaggeration makes him the arbiter of peace or war. Did he not give you that impression?" "I hardly think so; he was mostly concerned about his boarhound's dinner. As far as I remember, he considers our party just harmless lunatics. I made him confess as much one day." Silvester passed by the admission.