tic--tac, tic--tac, an utterly inhuman time-measurer; but she heard
the sound of every second, through the midst of the uproar in the
fir-trees, which bent their 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, into a hole, and feeling
as if she were going to sleep in bed, yet knowing it was death; and
thinking how much sweeter it was than sleep. Hugh's account was
very strange and defective, but he was never able to add anything to
it. He said that, when he rushed out into the dark, the storm
seized him like a fury, beating him about the head and face with icy
wings, till he was almost stunned. He took the road to the farm,
which lay through the fir-wood; but he soon became aware that he had
lost his way and might tramp about in the fir-wood till daylight, if
he lived as long. Then, thinking of Margaret, he lost his presence
of mind, and rushed wildly along. He thought he must have knocked