"Sir! The idea! I wouldn't have that old smoke-chimney if he were the last man on earth! I'd have given him his conge long ago, if it hadn't been that he might propose to my friend, the widow Babcock! I've only kept him on the string to prevent her getting him. When I want your advice, Captain Peyton, I'll ask for it! Excuse me, I must find Elizabeth. I've news for her." "News?" he echoed, stupidly. "Yes. From my chamber window awhile ago I saw some one riding this way on the post-road,--Major Colden!" And she swept out by the same door that had closed, a few minutes before, on Elizabeth. "Major Colden!" Peyton's teeth tightened, his eyes shot fire, his hand flew to his sword-hilt, as he spoke the name. He went to the window, the same window at which Elizabeth had looked out a week ago, and peered through the panes at the night. "Why, the ground is white," he said. "It has begun to snow." But, through the large flakes that fell thick and swiftly among the trees, he did not yet see any humankind approaching. His view of the branch road was, at some places, obstructed by tall shrubbery that rose high above the palings and the hedge. Yet through those flakes, assaulted by them in eyes and nostrils, invaded by them in ears and neck, humankind was riding. It was, indeed, Colden that Miss Sally had seen through a fortuitous opening, which gave, between the trees, a view of the most eminent point of the post-road southward. He was to conduct Elizabeth home the next day, but had availed himself of his opportunity to ride out to the manor-house that night, so as to have the few more hours in her society. He had this time taken an escort of two privates of his own regiment, but these men were not as well mounted as he, and, in his impatience, having seen the best their horses could do, and having passed King's Bridge, he had ridden ahead of them, leaving them to follow to the manor-house in their own speediest time. Thus it was that now he bore alone down from the post-road, his horse's feet making on the new-fallen snow no other sound than a soft crunching, scarce louder than its heavy breathing or its mouth-play on the bit, or the creak and clank of saddle, bridle, stirrups, pistols, and scabbard. His eyes dwelt eagerly on the manor-house, where awaited him light and warmth and wine, refuge from the pelting flakes, and, above all else, the joy-giving presence of Elizabeth. His breast expanded, he sighed already with relief; he approached the gate as a released soul, with admission ticket duly purchased by a deathbed repentance, might approach the gate of heaven. But Peyton, looking out on the white world, saw no one. He did not change his attitude when the door reopened and Elizabeth and her aunt came into the parlor, arm in arm. "You're sure 'twas he, aunt Sally?" Elizabeth had been saying. "Positive. He should be here now," Miss Sally had replied.