He got up, and went to the cottage door.
The earth lay snow-covered and very still. Since midnight the air had been thick with feathery flakes falling gently, silently. Just before dawn they had ceased, and now the world lay under the soft mantle. White and spectre-like the trees reared their branches against the cold grey sky. Only here and there the berries of the holly and the rowan-tree gleamed scarlet against the snow. A little stream that in summer made faint music as it wended its way to the right of the hut, finally losing itself in the shadow of the pinewood, was now frost-bound and silent. Over everything lay an intense stillness, an unearthly [Pg 269]purity. The ground before the hut was covered with curious little star-like lines imprinted in the snow, the impress of the feet of feathered wayfarers seeking for food which was not to be found.
And then through the silent frosty air came clear sounds—the barking of a sheepdog, the clarion note of a cock in an outlying farmyard, and, very distant, the sound of a church clock chiming the hour.
The eastern sky began to flush with colour. An amber light stole upward through the grey, turning to rose and then to deeper crimson. The white earth pulsated, breathed, awakened. Softly it reflected the crimson of the sky, and then slowly, majestically, the sun, a glowing ball of fire, came up over the horizon.
Peter stood gazing at the fairy magic of the scene. It was a pure transformation after the bleak dreariness of the previous night.
And then suddenly he saw a man coming along the road—a man tall, broad-shouldered, of a build akin to his own. A thick coat covered him, its fur collar well pulled up to his ears; a cloth cap was on his head.
“Hullo,” said Peter to himself, “he’s early a-foot!”
The man paused, looked in the direction of the hut, then turned and tramped quickly across the snow towards him. As he came nearer Peter saw a pleasant freckled face, brown eyes like a dog’s, a firm short chin, and a small reddish moustache.
Within three or four yards of him the stranger halted and spoke.
“Is your name, by good luck, Peter Carden?”