He found a stump on the edge of the woods and brushed the snow from it, then drawing his overcoat closely about him, he sat down and lit his pipe.
The windows of Idle Hour still showed their many lights.

At his feet a thread-like stream, swollen by the recent rains, splashed and murmured ceaselessly.

He sat there a long time silent and absorbed, watching the lights, until at last they vanished from the drawing-room and the library.

Then other lights appeared behind curtained windows on the second floor.

These in their turn were extinguished, and Idle Hour sank deeper into the shadows as the crescent moon slipped behind the horizon.
"God bless her!" North said aloud.
He knocked the ashes from his pipe, and retraced his steps to the drive.
He had but turned from this into the public road when he heard the clatter of wheels and the beat of hoofs, and a rapidly driven team swung around a bend in the road in front of him.