She read very clearly and with the appreciation that gives the listener an insight into the real meaning. I could not have gone to sleep. The chase stirred all my blood, but I was glad the deer escaped. The lovely lake among the mountains, the maiden in her skiff, the encounter, the guidance, the enchanted hall, the welcome to the unknown knight of Snowdoun, and the promise of the song. Why, I remembered lines of it and said myself to sleep with them.
"That is the end of the first canto. Next Sunday night you shall read. It sounds like music, doesn't it?" closing the old book.
"Yes," I assented. It still rang in my ears.
There was a shuffling and stamping at the door. Mr. Gaynor beat out his old hat on the post.
"Jerusalem! The old woman's feather bed has burst open this time, I guess. Why, you can't see your hand before you. I've been in snows before, but this is about the worst old tougher I ever encountered. Norme—" he had taken up the familiar name—"thank your stars you are this near the warehouse, if, indeed, you can get there at all to-morrow morning. But I don't suppose there'll be much trade," with a short chuckle.
I knew that was an invitation to stay all night. I had stayed twice before in a pouring rain.
"Oh, let's see!" Ruth sprang up.
But as she opened the door a swirl of snow flew nearly across the room, and she staggered.
It took both of us to shut the door and then we put up the bar. For a few moments it was a primitive cyclone. Ruth brushed the snow out of her hair and eyes and laughed. Mr. Gaynor stirred up the fire.
"I hope you're satisfied. You saw the snow," he said jocosely.