Gates of Dawn by Susan Barrie

had looked at her and spoken to her when first she had blundered into his car that had most curiously accelerated her breathing, and for a few moments she had felt almost overwhelmingly pleased to see him. And now, sitting so snugly and comfortably beside him, she was quite definitely reluctant to desert the warmth and comfort of the car, even although the walk up the drive would take far longer than the car journey.
    He opened his own door and cl imbed out into the snow, and she followed with his hand on her arm to prevent her being precipitated into one of the ruts he had spoken of. Then, pausing to remove his suitcase from the boot of the car, he caught hold of her hand and tucked it inside his arm, and together they set off up the drive.
    By that time a few stars were burning frostily in a clear patch of sky above their heads, and far away across the snow, in the direction of the village, the church bells were plainly practising their Christmas carillon. Otherwise the night was very still, and the faint wind which sighed close to their ears was gentle enough. Melanie could feel the rough surface of his coat-sleeve beneath her hand, and she had some difficulty in keeping pace with his long strides. He bent his head to look down at her in a sudden warm glow of light which streamed down the drive from the house, and she could see his white teeth as his lips parted whimsically over them .
    He said gently, “ Like Peter I ’ m dragging you along, but you can hang on to me as much as you please, and I promise I won ’ t let you stumble! ”
    Melanie felt a most pleasing sensation of warmth begin to steal in a comforting manner throughout all her being and it seemed to her that he drew her hand a little closer in the crook of his arm. He was holding her wrist firmly with his fingers, and ridiculously she felt that she was walking on air instead of snow that crunched crisply beneath her feet. If the drive had been another mile and a half in length she thought seriously that she would not have minded, but within a matter of minutes after leaving the car he had pulled the bell-chain in the porch and the front door had been flung hastily wide open to reveal the astonished visage of Mrs. Abbie.
    Behind her, in the hall, there was leaping firelight, and there were holly and evergreens, too, behind the gilt-framed portraits of some unknown gentlemen in period costume who adorned the walls. Melanie had risked life and limb on the top of an uncertain step-ladder earlier in the day to place them there. And the michaelmas daisies had been reinforced with sprays of scarlet berries, and the crimson cushion in the Jacobean chair looked most inviting.
    And Baxter came moving in a dignified fashion across the hall to greet them.
    “ Well, well! ” Richard Trenchard exclaimed, and there was a most unusual glow in his eyes as he looked about him. “ This really is—attractive! ”
    “ Mr. Richard! ” Mrs. Abbie exclaimed reprovingly. “ Why couldn ’ t you let us have a telephone message? Or at least you might have sent a telegram! ... And me not even sure your bed is aired! ”
    “ Then I ’ ll sleep in a chair in the library, ” he told her cheerfully. He was obviously in the highest spirits, removing his thick overcoat and sending the snow flying in all directions as he tossed it from him, and then turning to assist Melanie off with her raincoat. “ But from certain savory odors which seem to be finding their way from the kitchen you ’ ve got a very good dinner in course of preparation, and that I can certainly do with! Miss Brooks, ” whipping the head-scarf from her damp curls and casting it carelessly on to a settee, “ you and Noel will dine with me tonight, and we ’ ll open a bottle of champagne—of which I believe there are a few in the cellar—and celebrate the beginning of my occupation of the Wold House. ”
    “ Miss Trenchard is having her supper upstairs on a tray, ” Mrs. Abbie said, rather primly, before