"What could it be?" said Ellen. "It was certainly a light; I saw it as plainly as ever I saw anything; — what can it have done with itself? — there it is again! going the other way!" Alice waited no longer, but screamed out, "Who's there?" But the light paid no attention to her cry; it travelled on. "Halloo!" called Alice, again, as loud as she could. "Halloo!" answered a rough deep voice. The light suddenly stopped. "That's he! that's he!" exclaimed Ellen, in an ecstasy, and almost dancing — "I know it — it's Mr. Van Brunt! it's Mr. Van Brunt! — oh, Miss Alice!" — Struggling between crying and laughing Ellen could not stand it, but gave way to a good fit of crying. Alice felt the infection, but controlled herself, though her eyes watered as her heart sent up its grateful tribute; as well as she could she answered the halloo. The light was seen advancing towards them. Presently it glimmered faintly behind the fence, showing a bit of the dark rails covered with snow, and they could dimly see the figure of a man getting over them. He crossed the road to where they stood. It was Mr. Van Brunt. "I am very glad to see you, Mr. Van Brunt." said Alice's sweet voice; but it trembled a little. "Oh, Mr. Van Brunt!" sobbed Ellen. That gentleman, at first dumb with astonishment, lifted his lantern to survey them, and assure his eyes that his ears had not been mistaken. "Miss Alice! — how in the name of wonder! — and my poor little lamb! — but what on 'arth, Ma’am — you must be half dead. Come this way — just come back a little bit — why, where were you going, Ma’am?" "To your house, Mr. Van Brunt; I have been looking for it with no little anxiety, I assure you." "Looking for it! Why, how on 'arth! you wouldn't see the biggest house ever was built half a yard off such a plaguy night as this." "I thought I should see the light from the windows, Mr. Van Brunt." "The light from the windows! the storm rattled so agin' the windows, that mother made me pull the great shutters to. I won't have 'em shut again of a stormy night, that's a fact; you'd ha' gone far enough afore you'd ha' seen the light through them shutters." "Then we had passed the house already, hadn't we?" "Indeed, had you, Ma’am. I guess you saw my light, han't you?" "Yes, and glad enough we were to see it, too." "I suppose so. It happened so to-night — now that is a queer thing — I minded that I hadn't untied my horse; he's a trick of being untied at night, and won't sleep well if he ain't; and mother wanted me to let him alone 'cause of the awful storm, but I couldn't go to my bed in peace till I had seen him to his'n. So that's how my lantern came to be going to the barn in such an awk'ard night as this."