“Were you ever blocked up by a snowstorm?” asked Hurstmanceaux. “I have been--once in Scotland and once in Canada. It is a disagreeable experience.” “It must be, indeed. I hope there will be no chance of that to-day?” “Oh, no; men will have kept the line clear, no doubt!” As he spoke the train slackened its speed, moved with a jerking and dragging sound for some time, and a little while later stopped still with a great noise of rushing steam, and a jar which shook the carriage violently and flung Ossian against one of the doors. The lady turned pale, but she did not move or scream; she looked a mute inquiry. “I suppose they have failed to keep the line clear,” he said, in answer to the glance. “Allow me to look out a moment.” He let down a window and leaned out of it; but the air was so dense with steam and snow that he could not see a yard before him. “Is it an accident?” she said. “I do not think so. I imagine we have run into a snow-drift, nothing more.” The noise of the steam rushing out of the engine, and the shouts of officials calling to each other, almost drowned his voice. He took his railway-key out of his pocket and opened the door. “I will go and see what it is, and return in a moment,” he said to her, signing to Ossian to remain in the carriage, and leaving the door open. She did not attempt to detain or to follow him. “That is a thoroughbred woman,” he said to himself. He did return in a few minutes, and brought word that they had stuck fast in the snow. The engine-driver had slackened speed in time to avoid an accident, but they might be detained for hours; the telegraph wires were all down through the weight of the snow. “It is extremely disagreeable, but it is not dangerous,” he said to reassure her. “We shall be _quittes pour la peur_. We shall probably have time to get dreadfully keen about eating, and have nothing to eat. England is such a small place: one never thinks of ‘stoking’ when one travels in it.” “My poor maid!” she said anxiously. “I am afraid she must be very frightened, wherever she is.” “Can I look for her?” “You are very kind, but how should you know her? I will get out myself.” “It may be as well to get out. You would be warmer if you stayed in the carriage, but there is the chance that a train may come up behind and run into ours, though men have gone down the line with lamps.” She had nothing with her except her book and a bouquet of violets. Closely followed by Ossian, he accompanied her along the line, looking into each compartment to find her maid. There were many people, both in the train and out of it, talking confusedly, suggesting this, that, and the other; the air was full of fog and snow; the engine, snorting and smoking, stood with its brazen breast pushed against the high white hillocks.