The Ruling Passion

He entered the backwoods village of Bytown literally on the wings of the wind. It whirledhim along like a big snowflake, and dropped him at the door of Moody's "Sportsmen'sRetreat," as if he were a New Year's gift from the North Pole. His coming seemed a merechance; but perhaps there was something more in it, after all. At all events, you shall hear, ifyou will, the time and the manner of his arrival. It was the last night of December, some thirty-five years ago. All the city sportsmen whohad hunted the deer under Bill Moody's direction had long since retreated to their homes, leaving the little settlement on the border of the Adirondack wilderness wholly under thesocial direction of the natives. The annual ball was in full swing in the dining-room of the hotel. At one side of the roomthe tables and chairs were piled up, with their legs projecting in the air like a thicket of verydead trees. The huge stove in the southeast corner was blushing a rosy red through its thin coat ofwhitewash, and exhaling a furious dry heat flavoured with the smell of baked iron. At thenorth end, however, winter reigned; and there were tiny ridges of fine snow on the floor, sifted in by the wind through the cracks in the window-frames. But the bouncing girls and the heavy-footed guides and lumbermen who filled the ballroom did not appear to mind the heat or the cold. They balanced and "sashayed" from thetropics to the arctic circle. They swung at corners and made "ladies' change" all through thetemperate zone. They stamped their feet and did double-shuffles until the floor trembledbeneath them. The tin lamp-reflectors on the walls rattled like castanets. There was only one drawback to the hilarity of the occasion. The band, which wasusually imported from Sandy River Forks for such festivities, -a fiddle, a cornet, a flute, andan accordion, -had not arrived. There was a general idea that the mail-sleigh, in which themusicians were to travel, had been delayed by the storm, and might break its way throughthe snow-drifts and arrive at any moment. But Bill Moody, who was naturally of apessimistic temperament, had offered a different explanation."I tell ye, old Baker's got that blame' band down to his hotel at the Falls now, makin' 'emplay fer his party. Them music fellers is onsartin; can't trust 'em to keep anythin' 'cept thetoon, and they don't alluz keep that. Guess we might uz well shet up this ball, or go to workplayin' games."At this proposal a thick gloom had fallen over the assembly; but it had been dispersed bySerena Moody's cheerful offer to have the small melodion brought out of the parlour, and toplay for dancing as well as she could. The company agreed that she was a smart girl, andprepared to accept her performance with enthusiasm. As the dance went on, there werefrequent comments of approval to encourage her in the labour of love."Sereny's doin' splendid, ain't she?" said the other gi