"I!" said Ellen, a great spot of crimson coming in each cheek. "To be sure; do you think I am going to leave you behind." "But----" "But what?" "There won't be room." "Room in the sleigh? Then we'll put John on Prince Charlie, and let him ride there postillion-fashion." "But--Mr. Humphreys?" "He always goes on horseback; he will ride Sharp or old John." In great delight Ellen gave Alice an earnest kiss; and then they all gathered round the table to take their chocolate, or rather to see John take his, which his sister would not let him wait for any longer. The storm had ceased, and through the broken clouds the moon and stars were looking out, so they were no more uneasy for Mr. Humphreys, and expected him every moment. Still the supper was begun and ended without him, and they had drawn round the fire again before his welcome step was at last heard. There was new joy then; new embracing, and questioning and answering; the little circle opened to let him in; and Alice brought the corner of the table to his side, and poured him out a cup of hot chocolate. But after drinking half of it, and neglecting the eatables beside him, he sat with one hand in the other, his arm leaning on his knee, with a kind of softened gravity upon his countenance. "Is your chocolate right, papa?" said Alice at length. "_Very_ good, my daughter!" He finished the cup, but then went back to his old attitude and look. Gradually they ceased their conversation, and waited with respectful affection and some curiosity for him to speak; something of more than common interest seemed to be in his thoughts. He sat looking earnestly in the fire, sometimes with almost a smile on his face, and gently striking one hand in the palm of the other. And sitting so, without moving or stirring his eyes, he said at last, as though the words had been forced from him, "Thanks be unto God for His unspeakable gift!" As he added no more, Alice said gently, "What have you seen to-night, papa?" He roused himself and pushed the empty cup towards her. "A little more, my daughter; I have seen the fairest sight, almost, a man can see in this world. I have seen a little ransomed spirit go home to its rest. Oh, that 'unspeakable gift!'" He pressed his lips thoughtfully together while he stirred his chocolate; but having drunk it he pushed the table from him, and drew up his chair. "You had a long way to go, papa," observed Alice again. "Yes, a long way there; I don't know what it was coming home; I never thought of it. How independent the spirit can be of externals! I scarcely felt the storm to-night." "Nor I," said his son.