The village slept. The high wire netting could not keep

out the wonder of the winter night that grew about him like a presence.

He skated on and on, keen exhilarating pleasure in his tingling blood,

and weariness all forgotten.

And then, midway in the delight of rushing movement, he saw a figure

gliding behind the wire netting, watching him. With a start that almost

made him lose his balance—for the abruptness of the new arrival was so

unlooked for—he paused and stared. Although the light was dim he made

out that it was the figure of a woman and that she was feeling her way

along the netting, trying to get in. Against the white background of

the snow-field he watched her rather stealthy efforts as she passed

with a silent step over the banked-up snow. She was tall and slim and

graceful; he could see that even in the dark. And then, of course, he

understood. It was another adventurous skater like himself, stolen down

unawares from hotel or chalet, and searching for the opening. At once,

making a sign and pointing with one hand, he turned swiftly and skated

over to the little entrance on the other side.

But, even before he got there, there was a sound on the ice behind

him and, with an exclamation of amazement he could not suppress, he

turned to see her swerving up to his side across the width of the rink.

She had somehow found another way in.

Hibbert, as a rule, was punctilious, and in these free-and-easy

places, perhaps, especially so. If only for his own protection he did

not seek to make advances unless some kind of introduction paved the

way. But for these two to skate together in the semi-darkness without

speech, often of necessity brushing shoulders almost, was too absurd to

think of. Accordingly he raised his cap and spoke. His actual words he

seems unable to recall, nor what the girl said in reply, except that

she answered him in accented English with some commonplace about doing

figures at midnight on an empty rink. Quite natural it was, and right.

She wore grey clothes of some kind, though not the customary long

gloves or sweater, for indeed her hands were bare, and presently when

he skated with her, he wondered with something like astonishment at

their dry and icy coldness.

And she was delicious to skate with—supple, sure, and light, fast

as a man yet with the freedom of a child, sinuous and steady at the

same time. Her flexibility made him wonder, and when he asked where she

had learned she murmured—he caught the breath against his ear and

recalled later that it was singularly cold—that she could hardly tell,

for she had been accustomed to the ice ever since she could remember.

But her face he never properly saw. A muffler of white fur buried

her neck to the ears, and her cap came over the eyes. He only saw that

she was young. Nor could he gather her hotel or chalet, for she pointed

vaguely, when he asked her, up the slopes. “Just over there—” she

said, quickly taking his hand again. He did not press her; no doubt she

wished to hide her escapade. And the touch of her hand thrilled him

more than anything he could remember; even through his thick glove he

felt the softness of that cold and delicate softness.

The clouds thickened over the mountains. It grew darker. They talked

very little, and did not always skate together. Often they separated,

curving about in corners by themselves, but always coming together

again in the centre of the rink; and when she left him thus Hibbert was

conscious of—yes, of missing her. He found a peculiar satisfaction,

almost a fascination, in skating by her side. It was quite an

adventure—these two strangers with the ice and snow and night!

Midnight had long since sounded from the old church tower before

they parted. She gave the sign, and he skated quickly to the shed,

meaning to find a seat and help her take her skates off. Yet when he

turned—she had already gone. He saw her slim figure gliding away

across the snow … and hurrying for the last time round the rink alone

he searched in vain for the opening she had twice used in this curious

way.

“How very queer!” he thought, referring to the wire netting. “She

must have lifted it and wriggled under …!”

Wondering how in the world she managed it, what in the world had

possessed him to be so free with her, and who in the world she was, he

went up the steep slope to the post office and so to bed, her promise

to come again another night still ringing delightfully in his ears.