"There's a path that turns off from this, and makes a shorter cut to Mrs. Van Brunt's, but it must be above here; I must have missed it, though I have been on the watch constantly." She looked up and down. It would have been a sharp eye indeed that had detected any slight opening in the woods on either side of the path, which the driving snow-storm blended into one continuous wall of trees. They could be seen stretching darkly before and behind them; but more than that — where they stood near together, and where scattered apart, was all confusion, through the fast-falling shower of flakes. "In a few minutes he came in sight." "Shall we go back and look for the path?" said Ellen. "I am afraid we shouldn't find it if we did," said Alice; "we should only lose our time, and we have none to lose. I think we had better go straight forward." "Is it much further this way than the other path we have missed?" "A good deal — all of half a mile. I am sorry; but courage, my child! we shall know better than to go out in snowy weather next time — on long expeditions, at least." They had to shout to make each other hear; so drove the snow and wind through the trees, and into their very faces and ears. They plodded on. It was plodding; the snow lay thick enough now to make their footing uneasy, and grew deeper every moment; their shoes were full; their feet and ankles were wet; and their steps began to drag heavily over the ground. Ellen clung as close to Alice's cloak as their hurried travelling would permit; sometimes one of Alice's hands was loosened for a moment to be passed round Ellen's shoulders, and a word of courage or comfort in the clear calm tone, cheered her to renewed exertion. The night fell fast; it was very darkling by the time they reached the bottom of the hill, and the road did not yet allow them to turn their faces towards Mrs. Van Brunt's. A wearisome piece of the way this was, leading them _from_ the place they wished to reach. They could not go fast, either; they were too weary, and the walking too heavy. Captain had the best of it; snug and quiet he lay wrapped in Alice's cloak and fast asleep, little wotting how tired his mistress's arms were. The path at length brought them to the long-desired turning; but it was by this time so dark, that the fences on each side of the road showed but dimly. They had not spoken for a while; as they turned the corner, a sigh of mingled weariness and satisfaction escaped from Ellen's lips. It reached Alice's ear. "What's the matter, love?" said the sweet voice. No trace of weariness was allowed to come into it. "I am so glad we have got here at last," said Ellen, looking up with another sigh, and removing her hand for an instant from its grasp on the cloak to Alice's arm. "My poor child! I wish I could carry you, too! Can you hold a little longer?" "Oh, yes, dear Miss Alice; I can hold on."