"
Dane looked thoughtful. "If I am not taking a liberty--you still
consider the one apparently born to fill the place quite unsuitable?"
"Yes," said Barrington quietly. "I fear there is not a redeeming
feature in Courthorne's character."
Neither said anything further, until there was a tapping at the door,
and, though this was a most unusual spectacle on the prairie, a trim
English maid in white-banded dress stood in the opening.
"Mr. Courthorne, Miss Barrington," she said.
Now Silverdale had adopted one Western custom in that no chance guest
was ever kept waiting, and the music ceased suddenly, while the
stillness was very suggestive, when a man appeared in the doorway. He
wore one of the Scandinavian leather jackets which are not uncommon in
that country, and when his eyes had become accustomed to the light,
moved forward with a quiet deliberation that was characterized neither
by graceful ease nor the restraint of embarrassment. His face was
almost the color of a Blackfeet's, his eyes steady and gray, but those
of the men who watched him were turned the next moment upon the
Colonel's sister, who rose to receive him, slight, silver-haired, and
faded, but still stamped with a simple dignity that her ancient silks
and laces curiously enhanced. Then there was a silence that could be
felt, for all realized that a good deal depended on the stranger's
first words and the fashion of his reception by Miss Barrington and the
Colonel.
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