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 on a little longer?" "Oh yes, dear Miss Alice, I can hold on." But Ellen's voice was not so well guarded. It was like her steps, a little unsteady. She presently spoke again. "Miss Alice--are you afraid?" "I am afraid of your getting sick, my child, and a little afraid of it for myself;--of nothing else. What is there to be afraid of?" "It is very dark," said Ellen; "and the storm is so thick--do you think you can find the way?" "I know it perfectly; it is nothing but to keep straight on; and the fences would prevent us from getting out of the road. It is hard walking, I know, but we shall get there by-and-by; bear up as well as you can, dear. I am sorry I can give you no help but words. Don't you think a nice bright fire will look comfortable after all this?" "Oh dear, yes!" answered Ellen rather sadly. "Are _you_ afraid, Ellen?" "No, Miss Alice--not much--I don't like it's being so dark, I can't see where I am going." "The darkness makes our way longer and more tedious; it will do us no other harm, love. I wish I had a hand to give you, but this great cat must have both of mine. The darkness and the light are both alike to our Father; we are in His hands; we are safe enough, dear Ellen."