She turned away from the interested little group to look across the unbroken slope gleaming in sunlight that kissed it to a rosy glow in places, in others turned its frozen crystals to a myriad sparkling points of light. In the hollows and under the shadow of drifts and pines the snow looked blue. She knew where the fields lay, now under their blanket, patterned by fences in the summer. The road wound off to the left, then down, down——
It was only a step or two to the crest of the hill; the leap would be glorious! She turned a laughing glance over her shoulder; Eleanor, Ogilvie, Flood, were watching her intently.
"I dare you!" Pendleton cried again; and she was off, off in one splendid rush and leap, a leap that carried her out and down, far down.
Again Timmy shrieked, and Yetta fell on her knees. Eleanor's face flushed in admiration, and Pendleton called out,
"Good girl! Never knew you to take a dare!"
It was a phase of her new to the two men who loved her. Ogilvie had seen her in many situations, Flood in more; each believed that he knew the full excellence of her, yet, oddly enough, neither had thought of her as this wild, boyish, graceful creature of the out-of-doors. The sudden discovery of it came as a shock to both; for both were by nature men of the open, notwithstanding the fact of Flood's accumulated millions and Ogilvie's eminence in the laboratory. Now, in their surprise, they stood above, on the edge of the slope, and watched her, each thrilling, each showing his emotion in his own way.
Flood, in his surprise, had called out, then thrust one clenched fist into the other palm with a resounding smack; but in a moment his face took on its expressionless mask—expressionless save for the gleam from the half-closed eyes.
Ogilvie had made no sound; he stood perfectly still, with out-thrust under lip, the corners of his eyes wrinkling to a smile; his face wore something of the indulgent, restrained look of a mother when she sees an adored child perform some wonder, yet refrains from praise of that which is so intimately her own; his first move was to run his fingers through his hair.
The two stood there as if spellbound until Rosamund reached the valley and waved up to them. Then Flood and Ogilvie turned, and met each other's eyes. There was something of a shock; instantly each looked away again, with an unspoken feeling of apology, as if he had looked upon a disclosure that was not meant for him.
Neither analyzed what he had seen; until that moment neither had suspected that the thought of Rosamund might be living in the heart and desire of the other. Instantly each put the suspicion aside, as if it were an unworthy one; yet, through the hours that followed, it persisted in returning again and again. Each man acknowledged that if it were true of himself, it might well be true of his friend; but each tried to assure himself of its impossibility, even while admitting that, if it were true, there could have been nothing of unfairness on the part of the other.