He had been moving about and then sitting still in the cold room, just as he had jumped out of bed. He had been too much absorbed by his strange subject of thought to feel the chill that was creeping upon him.
Now, however, as he aroused himself from useless reverie, he shivered and shook as with an ague, and hastened to the hearth and uncovered the smouldering coals and brands, and threw upon them several handfuls of resinous pine cones and knots taken from a box in the corner, and upon them several cedar sticks and logs from a pile in the opposite corner, that soon blazed up, filling the room with an agreeable warmth and pleasant fragrance.
Then he dressed himself and went out.
There was no one in the hall outside the bedchambers, so he could not tell whether he was not the only one up in this strange house.
He passed down stairs and found the fires burning brightly in the broad front and back fireplaces in the hall, but still no one was to be seen.
He entered the “big parlor,” and found another pine fire there, but the room was empty.
In the spirit of restlessness he wandered into every room on that floor, finding every one well warmed by great open fires of costly logs—costly in every other locality, but cheap enough, because plenty enough on Cedar Mountain.
These numerous fires were needed now, and would be needed for some time yet, to correct the dampness and bad air of the long-deserted house.
Last of all he wandered into the dining-room where they had taken dinner and tea in one on the preceding day.
Here the table was drawn up before the bright, blazing fire, and neatly set for breakfast.