As her voice went out, hope, and spirit, and strength went with it.  She trembled and wept, and tried once again to pray.  She clasped her hands; but suffocating darkness seemed to close over her, and she felt lost, utterly and hopelessly lost!

A sense of injustice, of ill-usage, came to her, and she dried her eyes; she was young, and brave, and strong; and must; and would care for herself.  She should not perish; day would come some time, and she should get out.  She found she was very cold, and must arouse and exert herself.  Then came the thought and dread of wild animals; of that awful beast; and she listened, and could hear their stealthy steps in the dry leaves, and she shrunk from meeting the horrid glare of their eyes.  Oh, if Barton were only with her, just to drive them away!  God would protect him.

There—­as she could not help but stare into the black darkness, there surely was the glare of their eyes, that horrid, yellowish-green, glassy glare! and with a shriek she fled—­not far, for she fell, and a half swoon brought her a moment’s oblivion; when the dead cold night, and the dumb trees came back about her again.  With the reaction she arose, and found that she had lost her hood.  She felt that a wild beast had torn it from her head; and that she had taken his hot, brute breath.

Weak, hardly with the power of motion, she supported herself by the trunk of a tree.  “Father!  Father God! a helpless, weak child calls to Thee; show me my sin, let me repent of it; weak and lost, and hopeless; sweet Saviour, with Thy loving sympathy, stay and help my fainting heart.  If it be Thy will that I perish, receive my spirit, and let this weak, vain body, unmangled, be given back to my poor grief-stricken parents.  God and Saviour, hear me!”

There now came to her ear the voice of running water.  It had a sweet sound of companionship and hope, and she made towards it, and soon found herself on the banks of a wild and rapid stream.  “Oh, thanks! thanks!” she murmured, “this runs from darkness out to human habitations, somewhere.  It will lead out to daylight, and on its banks are human homes, somewhere.  Oh, give me strength to follow it, it is so hard to perish here!”

The wind had long been blowing, and had now risen to a tempest, bitter and sharp from the north, and the trees were bending and breaking under its fury.  Julia was thoroughly chilled, and her feet were benumbed with cold.  She had been aware for some time that snow was sifting over her, and rattling on the dry leaves under her feet.  She was dizzy, and almost overcome with sleep; and was conscious of strange visions and queer voices, that seemed to haunt her senses.  Could she hold out till morning?  She could not fix her wandering mind, even on this question.  She occasionally heard her own voice in broken murmurs, but did not understand what she said.  It was like the voice of another.  She knew her mouth was dry and parched with thirst,