The sun had set amid angry clouds; deep shadows already filled the recesses of the forest through which the iron horse went thundering on its way, while an icy wind, bringing with it frequent dashes of rain and sleet, swept through the leafless branches of the trees, tossing them wildly against a dull leaden sky. A lady, gazing out into the gathering gloom, started with a sudden exclamation of surprise and dismay. Her husband leaned hastily past her to see what had called it forth; then, with a smile at his own folly in forgetting that at the rate of speed with which they were moving the object, whatever it might be, was already out of sight, settled himself back again, bending a look of mild inquiry upon her agitated countenance. She shivered, and drawing her shawl more closely about her, put her lips to his ear, that she might be heard above the noise of the train. “It was a face, John--a woman’s face upturned to the sky, wan, distressed, wretched, with great sorrowful eyes. It just gleamed out upon me for an instant as we swept by, and was gone. Poor thing! poor thing! she must be in sore trouble.” He shook his head with a smile of conscious superiority of wisdom. “Don’t let your imagination run away with you, my dear, or waste your sympathy upon a wandering gypsy, who would not exchange places with you if she could.” The train was slackening its speed, and they could now converse with ease. “She is no ordinary tramp,” was the quick, earnest reply. “And if ever bitter, hopeless grief and despair were written on a human face, they were on hers. I wish we could go back and find her.” “Quite impossible, Dolly; so let us talk of something more agreeable.” “We change cars soon, don’t we?” she asked. “Worse than that; we get out at the next station and wait there two mortal hours for another train.” “Clearfield Station!” shouted the conductor, throwing open the car door. An acre or two of ground had been cleared of trees, though many of the stumps were still standing; there was no appearance of a town; only a depot and a few shanties scattered here and there, the whole hemmed in by the forest, except on the two sides where the road had cut its way through. The train stopped, and John and Dolly--otherwise Mr. and Mrs. Kemper--alighted, and the gentleman hurried his wife out of the rain and sleet into the depot. A very forlorn place it looked with its rusty stove, filthy floor and windows, and hard, straight-backed wooden chairs and settee, which gave small promise of rest or ease to the delayed and weary traveller. “What a wretched hole!” said Mrs. Kemper, sending a rueful glance from side to side. “How long did you say we’d have to stay here, John?” “Two hours, Dolly. Here, take this chair by the fire, and I’ll go and see what can be done.”