As the secret door opened, the sounds within the house came at once to her ears: the tramping of feet above, and the hoarse voices echoing through the mansion. "My good friend, Owen Wood,—Heaven preserve him!—is still living. Anyhow, he did not sentimentalize her. This girl was strong and vital: how would she take it when she learned that she had cast her lot with a fugitive from justice? For McClintock was certain that Spurlock was a hunted man. The softly glittering summer stars! She saw them shining over mountains of snow, over valleys of haze and warm darkness. Oh, you must believe me.
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