She looked very lovely, this cold, clear December, afternoon, in her dark, fur-trimmed mantle, her pretty hat, fur-trimmed too, and the long black plume contrasting with her amber-tinted hair.

The frosty wind had lit a glow in her pale cheeks, and deepened the light of her starry violet eyes.

She looked lovely, and so the gentleman thought, striding after her over the snowy ground.

She did not look around to see who it was, and it was only when he stepped up by her side that she glanced at him, uttering a cry of surprise.
"Sir Ronald Keith! Is it really you?
Oh, what a surprise!" She held out her gloved hand.

He took it, held it, looking piercingly into her eyes.
"Not an unpleasant one, I hope?
Are you glad to see me ?" "Of course! How can you ask such a question?
But I thought you were hundreds of miles away, shooting moose, and bears, and wolves in New Brunswick." "And so I was, and so I might have remained, had I not heard some news that sent me to Canada like a bolt from a bow." "What news ?" "Can you ask ?" She lifted her clear eyes to his face, and read it there.