X.
Julian Bayne, his long coat covered with snow and jingling with icicles,
his chill face scarlet with cold, his lips emitting a cloud of visible
breath, his eyes intent beneath the brim of his frost-rimmed hat, stood
gazing as if petrified by the strange scene he had witnessed just enacted
within, the strange words he had overheard.
"What is all this?" he cried at length. "Did you think I couldn't make
it?" Then to Lillian specially, as he took her hand, "Am I late?" he
asked solicitously. "I made all the speed I could. I hope I haven't
killed the horse."
He glanced over his shoulder through the open door, where he could see a
bit of the snowy drive, on which the groom was slowly leading the animal,
heavily blanketed, up and down before taking him to the stable. Although
sobbing now and again from the stress of his exertions, the horse had
evidently sustained no permanent injury.
"I came instantly," Julian repeated. "What is it?"
"Nothing!" cried Lillian hysterically, clinging to his arm.
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