Never had Harry occupied himself so
constantly and so feverishly, for the most part outside the cabin,
chopping and sawing diligently at a huge pile of wood, and in his
intervals of leisure he spent a great deal of time down the hill by the
mountain of snow, watching its almost magical vanishing.
"There is a great crowd down at the ravine to-night," he said to Pearl,
one evening at supper. "They are working with torches, and I think they
will probably have some kind of a bridge swung over by midnight. I
managed to signal to them a while ago, and they know that we are safe
now. If--if you want to sit up to-night," his voice sounded strained and
perfunctory, "I think you could possibly get over before morning."
The shadow which had fallen upon her face in the last day or two
deepened a little. "It will be cold out there at night." She caught at
the first excuse which came into her mind. "It will be better to wait
and go down after breakfast."
He acquiesced with a nod, but made no answer in words, and soon after he
left the room, and she, later, peeping cautiously out from the curtain
behind the window, saw him walking back and forth before the cabin.
It was an hour or two later when he opened the door and entered. She did
not hear him. She was standing, her elbow on the mantel-piece and her
cheek on her hand, looking down into the fire. His footsteps roused her
from her reverie and she looked up, in that moment of surprise,
forgetful of self and therefore self-revealing.
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