"Roy's Wife of Alidivalloch" as clearly soft and sweet as flutes,
accented with human gayety and mirth.

On came the merry whistlers. Burr sprang up and grasped Madelon
Hautville's arm. "He isn't dead," he whispered, hoarsely. "Somebody's
coming. Go home, quick!"

But Madelon looked at him with despairing obstinacy. "I'll stay,"
said she.

"I tell you, go! Somebody is coming. I'll get help. I'll send for the
doctor. Go home!"

"No!"

"Oh, Madelon, if you have ever loved me, go home!"

Madelon turned away at that. "I'll be there when they come for me,"
said she, and went swiftly down the road and out of sight in the
converging distance of trees, with the snow muffling her footsteps.

When she reached home she groped her way into the living-room, which
was lighted only by the low, red gleam of the coals on the hearth.
Her father's gruff voice called out from the bedroom beyond: "That
you, Madelon?"

"Yes," said she, and lighted a candle at the coals.

"Have the boys come?"