The father and son now seemed exactly formed for giving pleasure and delight to each other; and it plainly appeared to Captain Elliott, that it would be difficult to say which of them would suffer most when a separation became necessary. One very stormy evening, Mr. Martin and William were sitting alone in the study, Helen and her uncle having remained to dine with Mrs. Elliott; as the wind howled in the chimney; William said, "I cannot think what takes Helen so much into Langholm; I am glad, however, that my uncle is with her, for I really do not think it is a night for her to be out in."--"I am not uneasy," answered her father; "your uncle will bring her safe, in some way or other. Helen does not mind a little wind or rain; she is not a fine lady."--"I shall return her, however," answered William, laughing, "one of her lessons to me on prudence. It is not often I can catch an opportunity of showing my superior wisdom, and I won't lose this one, I can tell her." Just as he finished this speech, John opened the door. "Sir, if you please," said he, in the utmost agitation, "I know not what to do: in coming down the hill I called at Mr. Scott's to walk to Langholm with Marion, as Miss Helen gave her leave to go and spend the morning with her mother. It was so boisterous a night, I meant to try to persuade her to stay there, and allow me to go and tell Miss Helen she had done so; but her mother told me, when I got into the house, that Marion, seeing the storm coming, insisted on setting off, as she said her absence would vex Miss Helen very much; I therefore ran down the road, as fast as the wind and drifting snow would allow me, but she has never arrived at Langholm, Sir, nor can I hear a word of her at any of the houses, all along the dale. The very thought of what may have happened to her drives me almost distracted; what can I do, Sir? I have come to you, as perhaps you may be able to think of something that I may yet do to save her." Both William and his father started up, and began buttoning their coats to go in search of the poor little girl. William, however, remonstrated against his father's attempting to expose himself to such a storm; but Mr. Martin, more intent upon doing what he conceived to be his duty than mindful of his own health, still persevered in his preparations, till William firmly, though respectfully, said "My dearest father, it is a thing I cannot possibly consent to. John and I are strong healthy lads, that are both used to disregard either wind or weather. You may be certain that we shall both make every possible exertion for this girl's safety; but if you persevere in your intention of exposing so precious a life, where, I am sure, your strength can be but of little use, I feel it be my duty to remain where I am, and guard my father from distressing both myself and my excellent sister. Could she ever pardon me, were I to permit you to quit your house on such an errand, and on such a night? Even were it herself