"Catch me!" she cried, and away she flew down the slopes, laughing, screaming, rocking, reeling, and leaping over the drifts, until at length she tumbled into a deep one, with head down and ski in air, and came up half blind, with Stowell's arms about her and his lips kissing the snow off her chin and nose.
What a winter! Could there be any sorrow or sin or crime in the world at all? And what did it want its prisons and courts for?
But the thaw came at length, and then the noises of the garrulous old island began again with the rattle of the cart wheels, the rumble of the rivers running to the sea, and the mooing and bleating of the liberated cattle and sheep, coming out of their Ark and going back to the discoloured grass of the fields.
Stowell and Fenella felt as if they were descending to a world of reality from a world of dreams.
"Good-night!"
They were in the porch at Government House after the last of their winter expeditions. He was crushing her in his arms again, to the ruin of her beautiful hair, and whispering of the time that was coming when there would be no need for such partings.
"Three months yet, Sir!"
"Heavens, what an age!"
And then home to Ballamoar, with his young chestnut under him sniffing the night air, and over his head a paradise of stars.
II