CHAPTER III
“NOT DEATH BUT LIFE”
MR. FENTON walked on slowly with his hand at the horse’s head. He was guiding and encouraging, as he floundered through the heavy snow, almost as light in quality as sifted flour.
Tory rode, holding the reins and standing so that she might better observe the objects ahead.
With apparent good judgment, the Emperor did not rush on out of sight. He kept stopping and turning to discover if his much-needed assistants in whatever cause he had at heart were following.
As a matter of fact, Tory was forgetting the seriousness of their quest. The morning was enchantingly lovely. With the appearance of her uncle her fears had subsided.
Doubtless Memory Frean would make her way home in their absence and discover that the House in the Woods had sheltered an unknown occupant during the night.
Overhead the long feathery fingers of snow suspended from the branches of the trees sparkled and swung, falling to earth at the lightest breath of wind.
In truth the morning was remarkably still, as suddenly toward dawn the storm had ceased entirely.
Tory affectionately studied her uncle, his fine scholarly face unusually reddened and glowing by the surprising exertions of his struggles through the drifted snow. His shoulders, oftentimes slightly bowed, were now erect in order that he might better survey his surroundings.
Plainly he was more troubled than Tory by what might lie ahead.