The labyrinth was composed of paths, cut in the deep snow, winding in and out, and circling about in all directions, till, at length, the foremost of the party halted before the entrance to the snow palace.  The boys had, indeed, been industrious, and the new comers stared in amazement, at the results of their labor.  They found themselves, on entering the palace, in a room high enough for the tallest of the party to stand upright in, and of dimensions large enough to seat them all comfortably around the square block of snow which formed the centre table.  The seats were of the same material, and were substantial enough, while the extreme cold weather lasted.  On the table was placed the entertainment provided by Emily, to which the party did all possible justice, considering that they had just risen from a plentiful dinner at home.  After the feast, Robert and Alfred entertained them with feats of agility on the ice, dragging one or the other of the children after them upon the sled, and when they returned home, even Emily’s usually pale cheeks were in a glow.

Towards evening Agnes began to be uneasy, and to watch at the window for her aunt’s return.  “I will not see aunty, cousin Emily,” she said, “but I cannot go to bed till I hear how Lewie is to-night.”

At length her uncle and aunt returned, and Agnes heard that her little brother was very ill; but the doctor was of opinion that his disease was a brain fever, and therefore there was no danger of contagion.  Agnes went to bed with a heavy heart, and cried herself to sleep.

The next morning, as soon as breakfast was over, Mrs. Wharton again ordered the sleigh and drove to “the Hemlocks.”  She found Mrs. Elwyn in a state bordering on distraction.

“Oh, Ellen,” she said, “how I have wanted you!  Lewie has had a night of dreadful suffering, and now he is unconscious.  He does not know me, Ellen!  He does not hear me when I call.  I think he does not see.  Oh, Ellen, what would life be to me if I lose my darling.  And now I want you to pray! You can pray, Ellen, and God answers your prayers.  Pray for the life of my child!  Mammy prays, but she will only say, ’The will of the Lord be done!’”

“And I can say no more, Ellen.  I do pray; I have prayed, that your darling boy’s life may be spared, if it be the will of God, but more than that I cannot say.”

“And what if it be His will to take my darling from me, Ellen?”

“Then, Harriet, I hope you might learn to acquiesce without a murmur, and to say from your heart, ’It is the Lord, let Him do what seemeth to Him good.’”

“No, Ellen, never!  I cannot contemplate the bare possibility of losing my boy.  If you will not pray as I wish, I will try to pray myself;” and falling on her knees, she prayed for the life of her child.  “Take whatever else thou wilt, oh God,” she cried, “but oh, spare me my child.”

“Harriet, this seems to me most horrible impiety,” said Mrs. Wharton, “to ask God to grant your desires, whether agreeable to His will, or not; I should much fear if your request were granted, that it would only be to show you, that you know not what is best for yourself, and for those you love; and that you might some day wish you had left this matter in the hands of God, even if it had been His will to take your darling to Himself.”