tall heads hissing to the blast, and swinging about in the agony of their strife.  The minutes went by, till an hour was gone, and there was neither sound nor hearing, but of the storm and the clock.  Still she sat and stared, her eyes fixed on the door-latch.  Suddenly, without warning it was lifted, and the door opened.  Her heart bounded and fluttered like a startled bird; but alas! the first words she heard were:  “Is she no come yet?” It was her husband, followed by several of the farm servants.  He had made a circuit to the farm, and finding that Hugh had never been there, hoped, though with trembling, that Margaret had already returned home.  The question fell upon Janet’s heart like the sound of the earth on the coffin-lid, and her silent stare was the only answer David received.

But at that very moment, like a dead man burst from the tomb, entered from behind the party at the open door, silent and white, with rigid features and fixed eyes, Hugh.  He stumbled in, leaning forward with long strides, and dragging something behind him.  He pushed and staggered through them as if he saw nothing before him; and as they parted horror-stricken, they saw that it was Margaret, or her dead body, that he dragged after him.  He dropped her at her mother’s feet, and fell himself on the floor, before they were able to give him any support.  David, who was quite calm, got the whisky bottle out, and tried to administer some to Margaret first; but her teeth were firmly set, and to all appearance she was dead.  One of the young men succeeded better with Hugh, whom at David’s direction they took into the study; while he and Janet got Margaret undressed and put to bed, with hot bottles all about her; for in warmth lay the only hope of restoring her.  After she had lain thus for a while, she gave a sigh; and when they had succeeded in getting her to swallow some warm milk, she began to breathe, and soon seemed to be only fast asleep.  After half an hour’s rest and warming, Hugh was able to move and speak.  David would not allow him to say much, however, but got him to bed, sending word to the house that he could not go home that night.  He and Janet sat by the fireside all night, listening to the storm that still raved without, and thanking God for both of the lives.  Every few minutes a tip-toe excursion was made to the bedside, and now and then to the other room.  Both the patients slept quietly.  Towards morning Margaret opened her eyes, and faintly called her mother; but soon fell asleep once more, and did not awake again till nearly noon.  When sufficiently restored to be able to speak, the account she gave was, that she had set out to meet her father; but the storm increasing, she had thought it more prudent to turn.  It grew in violence, however, so rapidly, and beat so directly in her face, that she was soon exhausted with struggling, and benumbed with the cold.  The last thing she remembered was, dropping, as she thought,