“Thank God!” he cried.  “It has been a dreadful night.”

Jamie was in the house.  They two had been sitting up.  They wouldn’t hear of my going back, but put me into bed, almost by main strength.  Then they started with fresh horses.  They took a pillion for Margaret, and a shovel to dig through the drifts when they couldn’t go round.

Mother gave me warm drinks, and piled on the bed-clothes.  But I couldn’t sleep for worrying about Margaret.  I was afraid the exposure would be the death of her.

About noon Mary came running up to tell me they had just gone past.  The window was near my bed.  I pulled aside the curtain, and looked out.  They were just going over the hill,—­Jamie, with Margaret on the pillion, and Mr. Nathaniel along-side.

I often think what a mysterious Providence it was that made me the means of bringing together the two persons who, as it turned, controlled my whole life.  In fact, it seems as if it were only then that my real life began.

* * * * *

Nobody could have been more pleased with a bright, beautiful, grown-up daughter than was Mr. Nathaniel.  He was always bragging about her.  And well he might,—­for never was a better-dispositioned girl, or a livelier.  She entered right into our country-life, was merry with the young folks and wise with the old ones.  Aunt Chloe said she was good company for anybody.

She was a real godsend to our neighborhood, especially at the merry-makings; for she could make fun for a roomful, and tell us what they played at the Boston parties.

Of course, that long ride with her in the snow-storm had given me an advantage over the other young men.  It seemed to be taken for granted by them, that, as I brought her to town, I should be the one privileged to wait upon her about.  ’Twas a privilege I was glad enough to claim, and she never objected.  Many would have been glad to be in my place, but they never tried to cut me out.  Margaret was sociable enough with them,—­sometimes I thought too much so.  But then I knew ’twas only her pleasant way.  When we two were walking home together, she dropped her fun, and seemed like another person.  I felt pleased that she kept the best part of herself for me.

I was pleased, too, to see that she took to Mary, and Mary to her.  The women were hurried with their sewing, and Margaret used to be often at our house helping.  Cynthia was glad enough of her help, because she knew the fashions, and told how weddings were carried on in Boston.  Thus it happened that she and Mary were brought much together; and before winter was over they were like two sisters.

And before winter was over, what was I?  Certainly not the same Joseph who went to Swampsey Village.  My eagerness to be on the sea, my pride, my temper, were gone; and all I cared for was to see the face and hear the voice of Margaret Holden.

At first, I would not believe this thing of myself; said it was folly to be so led about by a woman.  But the very next moment, her sitting down by my side would set me trembling, I didn’t know myself; it seemed as if I were wrong side up, and all my good feelings had come to the top.