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She reflected before answering. “My husband knows all. But I’m going to-day. Red apples and snow! How often had these two things entered his thoughts since his wanderings began? Red apples and snow!—and never again to behold them! "I am going out for a little while," she said. Jack's complexion was that of a gipsy; Darrell's as fresh and bright as a rose. His manner, however, was as stern and haughty as ever, and his glances retained their accustomed fire. It was an awful moment—so awful, that every other feeling except deep interest in the scene seemed suspended. Unless he has dealings with the devil, he could never have done this alone.
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