For two days the great blizzard continued, and Cecil Stark remained more or less unconscious. Sometimes he recovered sufficiently to speak, and his friend\'s name was upon his tongue when he did so; but the sick man could neither frame a coherent sentence, nor make his desires understood to any listener. At length, however, he began to mend, and Maurice Malherb, who held himself something of a physician, pronounced that the lad was out of danger. For this happy circumstance he took all credit to himself, but Grace declared that she it was who had saved the wanderer\'s life. As yet she had not seen him. Her mother and Dinah Beer ministered to him during his unconsciousness, obeyed the master in every particular, and, with most assiduous care, steadily nursed Cecil Stark back into life after he had said farewell to it.

The American prisoner\'s return to intelligent speech brought no small annoyance for his host. Stark\'s clothes were bought from a Jew pedlar, and had not betrayed him; but he made all clear as soon as he was able to do so; and Mr. Malherb, stamping into the parlour after his first conversation with the invalid, announced a discovery with considerable wrath. As yet no news of the outer world had reached Fox Tor Farm. It lay separated from all things by impenetrable barriers and drifts of snow.

"An American! A wretched prisoner who broke out of Prince Town on the night of the storm. One Cecil Stark, by a vile coincidence. Doubtless that rascal who came so near to braining Grace in the summer. Himself and other blackguards climbed over the walls, for our sentries had been moved and wrapped in cotton wool, I suppose, to keep the weakly fools from freezing! Once in the teeth of the storm, three of the six prisoners turned tail and went back as fast as their legs would carry them. Three held on. One—a common sailor—was soon lost; two—this lad and another officer—struggled to within a hundred yards of my mansion. Then the elder fell to rise no more, and the boy, with a last effort, reached us. The rest you know. Thanks to Grace and to me, he will regain his worthless life, and not lose a finger."

"But the other poor souls—how monstrous sad to think that one perished almost at our doorstep! I pray you despatch Beer, Woodman, and the rest instantly, dear Maurice," cried Mrs. Malherb.

"Am I a stone?" he answered. "Already the men and dogs are seeking this unfortunate creature. But he is far beyond all help. It may be that we shall not find him before the melting of the snows."

Mr. Malherb hastened off, and Annabel, taking Grace with her, went to see their guest. Young Lee had been appointed night nurse to the sufferer, and now John met Grace and her mother as they arrived.

"Mr. Stark is sitting up," he said. "He finds himself too weak to rise, but he awaits you very eagerly. I hear him mumbling a speech that shall express his deep regret for all the care he has given here."

"He shall say no such things," declared Mrs. Malherb; yet, before she could prevent it, Stark began upon the theme at his heart.

"Forgive me, madam, for this terrible trouble that I have brought into your home. I had better far have died outside it. Yet I bless you that I still live. To sharp ears and generous courage and wonderful skill I owe my salvation, and \'tis beyond human power ever to thank you for such goodness. Samaritans indeed have you been to me. You have given me back my life."

"Then I pray you to set a better value on it, Master Stark," said Annabel, "for truly you rated it but low to venture it on such a hazard."

"It shall be precious henceforth. When I grow desperate I will consider the price of skill and trouble with which you and your husband have redeemed it."

"And my daughter, sir; your best thanks are due to her, for \'twas she who heard your cry in the night."

Grace, gazing down, saw a strong, young face, with wild black hair, a powerful neck, square jaw, and clean, firm mouth. Stark\'s countenance was very thin, and the grey eyes that burnt out of it appeared dim and weary. Their lids kept falling upon them. But now into his face came a flush. He had not yet looked at Grace Malherb, nor did he do so now.

"God bless your daughter, madam. And have they found him—my friend—the Commodore? \'Twas to him I shouted, and forgot that the cry might reach any other listener."

"I fear you must not hope——"

"No, no. I only trust that he may be found—his dust. Oh, God of Mystery! to think that I led my friend directly to your very gates and lost him then because my senses were sealed up. Mayhap one word had saved him! And such a sailor as any nation might take glory in! He lies there, frozen to death; while I bide here alive, with angels to tend my good-for-nothing body."

"He\'s gone to greater and better work, young sir," said Annabel.

"There\'s no greater or better work on earth or in Heaven, madam, than to fight for one\'s country," he answered wearily.

"And is not Heaven the Country of us all? What nobler task than to fight for that? You shall find there—not Frenchmen, nor Englishmen, nor Americans—but only happy souls at rest."

"Your land has killed a great man," he said.

"Alas, sir! Of what nation on earth can less be confessed? The conqueror\'s path is often over noble corpses. You are young and our terrible solitudes have not yet tamed you. We shall see you again to-morrow. Meantime John Lee and Mrs. Beer are at your beck and call by night and day. And accept my earnest and prayerful thanksgiving that you are spared to do worthy work in the world."

"And mine too, Mr. Stark," said Grace.

Then, for the first time, he lifted his eyes to her face and recognised her. Thereupon his slight colour faded away, and he seemed like to faint. Instead, he braced himself, sat up, regarded her with deep emotion and spoke.

"I remember you! You have paid me good for evil, indeed. I——"

But here his fortitude failed him, his spirit was shaken in its present feeble state, and he turned his face away to the wall. Annabel hastened her daughter out of the room and followed her immediately.

"The poor young man is reduced to the utmost weakness," she presently told her husband. "He must have all the strong and sustaining fare that we can bestow upon him to restore his masculine serenity. \'Twas he whose chisel nearly destroyed dear Gracie, and when he saw her and thought upon it, he hid his face to weep. \'Twas a pitiful sight—happily only seen by women."

"Death came so nigh that it robbed him of manhood—if Americans have manhood—yet just missed to grasp at his life. We must restore him to health and to prison as quickly as may be. There is wine in my cellar—an elixir beyond reach of any now, for none remains in the market. He shall be free of it. Yet I hate to think that even in the name of humanity we have suffered an American to cross this threshold."

"Our country\'s enemy, father, not ours," said Grace.

"And since when were my country\'s enemies not mine, chit?" he asked.

"Yet you praised Monsieur Marliac, who is on parole at Ashburton, for his riding in that noble run before the ill weather."

"His riding, yes; not him. He happens to be a marvellous fine horseman with British resource and courage. Some Englishman doubtless taught him. Have done with that. When this boy returned to consciousness, my first demand upon him was that he should give me his parole. Needless to say, he instantly agreed to do so."

The baying of a hound, the shrill barking of two terriers, and the murmur of men\'s voices came through the window. Other sounds there were not, for the snow had long muffled up the earth and made its frozen surface dumb. Glancing out of the casement, Malherb saw the sight that he awaited, bade Grace and her mother retire, then solemnly went forth uncovered to meet the dead.

An hour before, Thomas Putt, with Beer, Harvey Woodman and Mark Bickford, had tramped out of doors to seek the body of Cecil Stark\'s companion. The snow no longer fell; the sky was clear, yet lacked colour; the wind, sunk from its sustained fury, now uttered gigantic but irregular sighs and slept between th............