Then he turned away feeling like one who had committed a desecration, knowing that he had looked too long already upon the sleeping girl who believed he had been an outcast and yet had taken his word, for it was borne in upon him that a time would come when he would try her faith even more severely.
Moving softly he paced up and down the room.
Winston afterwards wondered how many miles he walked that night, for though the loghouse was not longer than thirty feet, the cold bit deep; but at last he heard a sigh as he glanced towards the stove, and immediately swung round again.

When he next turned, Miss Barrington stood upright, a little flushed in face but otherwise very calm, and the man stood still, shivering in spite of his efforts and blue with cold.

The wind had fallen, but the sting of the frost that followed it made itself felt beside the stove.
"You had only your deerskin jacket--and you let me sleep under all the furs," she said.
Winston shook his head, and hoped he did not look as guilty as he felt, when he remembered that it must have been evident to his companion that the furs did not get into the position they had occupied themselves.
"I only fancied you were a trifle drowsy and not inclined to talk," he said, with an absence of concern, for which Miss Barrington, who did not believe him, felt grateful.

"You see,"-- and the inspiration was a trifle too evident--"I was too sleepy to notice anything myself.
Still, I am glad you are awake now, because I must make my way to the Grange." "But the snow will be ever so deep, and I could not come," said Maud Barrington.
Winston shook his head.

"I'm afraid you must stay here, but I will be back with Colonel Barrington in a few hours at latest." The girl deemed it advisable to hide her consternation.