her as if she had been walking the whole evening through the thick, crisp snow. Suddenly, she stopped:
"Henri," she stammered.
"What?"
"I . . . I daren't . . ."
"What daren't you?"
"I daren't ring."
"Why not?"
"I daren't go in."
"But what's the matter with you?"
"Nothing. . . . I'm frightened. I daren't."
"But, Constance . . ."
"Henri, I'm trembling all over! . . ."
"Are you feeling ill?"
"No . . . I'm frightened. . . ."
"Come, Constance, what are you frightened of? Now that we're there, we may as well ring. What else would you do ? . . . Here's the house."
He rang the bell. . . . They waited; no one came to the door; and the snow beat in their faces.
"But there's a light," he said. "They haven't gone to bed."
"And Addie . . ."
"Yes, Addie must be there."
"Ring again," she said.
He rang the bell. . . . They waited. . . . The house remained silent in the driving snow; but there was a light in nearly every window.
