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. 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!--My goodness alive!--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! Bless my soul! the storm rattled so again 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, ha'n'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." They had reached the little gate, and Mr. Van Brunt with some difficulty pulled it open. The snow lay thick upon the neat brick walk which Ellen had trod the first time with wet feet and dripping garments. A few steps farther and they came to the same door that had opened then so hospitably to receive her. As the faint light of the lantern was thrown upon the old latch and door-posts, Ellen felt at home, and a sense of comfort sank down into her heart which she had not known for some time. CHAPTER XX True is, that whilome that good poet said, The gentle minde by gentle deeds is knowne: For a man by nothing is so well bewrayed As by his manners, in which plaine is showne Of what degree and what race he is growne. --FAERIE QUEENE.