"There, Orville, here are our fields. I am almost home; now hurry back. It is late. I am obliged to you." They had reached the opening, and the young man turned back, and the young girl tripped lightly and carelessly on; not to find the fence, as she expected, but an expanse of fallen timber, huge trunks, immense jams of tree-tops, and numerous piles of brush, under which the path was hidden. As she looked over and across, in the gloomy twilight, trees seemed to stand thick and high on the other side. Julia at once concluded that they had taken a wrong path; and she thought that she remembered to have seen one, which she and Barton passed, on the memorable night of their adventure; and without attempting to traverse the chopping, or go around it, she turned and hurried back to the old road. As she went, she thought of what had then happened, and how pleasant it would be if he were with her, and how bad it had all been since that time. When she got back to the old road, it seemed very strange, and as if it had undergone some change; looking each way, for a moment, undecided, she finally walked rapidly to the north, until she came to a path leading to the left, which she entered, with a sense of relief, and hurried forward. It was quite dark, silent, and gloomy in the woods, and she sped on--on past huge trees, through open glades, down through little sinks and swales, and up on high ground, until she came to an opening. "Thank God! thank God!" cried the relieved and grateful child; "I am out at last. How glad I am!" And she reached the margin of the woods, to be confronted with an interminable black jungle of fallen and decaying tree-trunks, limbs and thick standing brush, over which, and out of which, stood the dense tops of young trees. She paused for a moment, and turning to the left, thought to skirt about this obstruction, until she should reach the fence and field, which she was sure were now near her. On and on, and still on she went; over the trunks of fallen trees, through tangles of brush and pools of water, until, when she turned to look for the opening, she was alarmed and dismayed to find that it had disappeared. Her heart now for the first time sank within her. She listened, but no sound, save the ominous moan in the air, came to her ear. The solemn, still, black night was all about her. She looked up, and a cold, starless, dim blank was all over her; and all around, standing thick, were cold, dark, silent trees. She stood and tried to think back: where was she, and how came she there? She knew she had once turned back, from something to somewhere--to the old road, as she remembered; and it flashed across her, that in the strange appearance of things, and in her confusion, she had crossed it, and was in the awful, endless woods! How far had she gone? If lost, had she wandered round and round, as lost folks do? Then she thought of her dear, distracted mother, and of her brave and kind father.