deep and badly drifted, and it was with extreme difficulty that we could
force our way against the storm. We stopped often to take breath and
listen; but the roaring of the wind and waves was alone audible. At
last we reached a slightly elevated spot, overgrown with dwarf plum-
trees, whose branches were dimly visible above the snow.

"'Here, bring the lantern here!' cried Julia, who had strayed a few
yards from me. I hastened to her, and found her lifting up the body of
a man who was apparently insensible. The rays of the lantern fell full
upon his face, and we both, at the same instant, recognized Robert
Barnet. Julia did not shriek nor faint; but, kneeling in the snow, and
still supporting the body, she turned towards me a look of earnest and
fearful inquiry.

"'Courage!' said I. 'He still lives. He is only overcome with fatigue
and cold.'

"With much difficulty-partly carrying and partly dragging him through
the snow--we succeeded in getting him to the house, where, in a short
time, he so far recovered as to be able to speak. Julia, who had been
my prompt and efficient assistant in his restoration, retired into the
shadow of the room as soon as he began to rouse himself and look about
him. He asked where he was and who was with me, saying that his head
was so confused that he thought he saw Julia Atkins by the bedside.
'You were not mistaken,' said I; 'Julia is here, and you owe your life
to her.' He started up and gazed round the room. I beckoned Julia to
the bedside; and I shall never forget the grateful earnestness with
which he grasped her hand and called upon God to bless her. Some folks
think me a tough-hearted old fellow, and so I am; but that scene was
more than I could bear without shedding tears.