silence, and through a wild and gloomy scene. The wind roared heavily
through the forest, and the trees shed their raindrops upon the
travellers. The road, at all times rough, was now broken into deep
gullies, through which streams went murmuring down to mingle with the
river. The pale moonlight combined with the gray of the morning to give a
ghastly and unsubstantial appearance to every object.

The difficulties of the road had been so much increased by the storm, that
the purple eastern clouds gave notice of the near approach of the sun just
as the travellers reached the little lonesome cottage which Ellen
remembered to have visited several months before. On arriving opposite to
it, her companion checked his horse, and gazed with a wild earnestness at
the wretched habitation. Then, stifling a groan that would not altogether
be repressed, he was about to pass on; but at that moment the cottage-door
opened, and a woman, whose sour, unpleasant countenance Ellen recognized,
came hastily forth. She seemed not to heed the travellers; but the angler,
his voice thrilling and quivering with indescribable emotion, addressed
her.

"Woman, whither do you go?" he inquired.

She started, but, after a momentary pause, replied, "There is one within
at the point of death. She struggles fearfully; and I cannot endure to
watch alone by her bedside. If you are Christians, come in with me."

Ellen's companion leaped hastily from his horse, assisted her also to
dismount, and followed the woman into the cottage, having first thrown the
bridles of the horses carelessly over the branch of a tree. Ellen trembled
at the awful scene she would be compelled to witness; but, when death was
so near at hand, it was more terrible to stand alone in the dim morning