She returned their greetings graciously, and
then swung herself from the platform, with a smile in her eyes, as a
man came hastily and yet as it were with a certain deliberation in her
direction.
He was elderly, but held himself erect, while his furs, which were
good, fitted him in a fashion which suggested a uniform. He also wore
boots which reached half-way to the knee, and were presumably lined to
resist the prairie cold, which few men at that season would do, and
scarcely a speck of dust marred their lustrous exterior, while as much
of his face as was visible beneath the great fur cap was lean and
commanding. Its salient features were the keen and somewhat imperious
gray eyes and long straight nose, while something in the squareness of
the man's shoulders and his pose set him apart from the prairie
farmers, and suggested the cavalry officer. He was in fact Colonel
Barrington, founder and autocratic ruler of the English community of
Silverdale, and he had been awaiting his niece somewhat impatiently.
Colonel Barrington was invariably punctual, and resented the fact that
the train had come in an hour later than it should have done.
"So you have come back to us. We have been longing for you, my dear,"
he said. "I don't know what we should have done had they kept you in
Montreal altogether."
Maud Barrington smiled, though there was a brightness in her eyes and a
faint warmth in her cheek, for the sincerity of her uncle's welcome was
evident.
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