The Wide, Wide World — Part 182

"Miss Alice! — how in the name of wonder! — and my poor little lamb! — but what on 'arth, Ma’am — you must be half dead. Come this way — just come back a little bit — why, where were you going, Ma’am?"

"To your house, Mr. Van Brunt; I have been looking for it with no little anxiety, I assure you."

"Looking for it! Why, how on 'arth! you wouldn't see the biggest house ever was built half a yard off such a plaguy night as this."

"I thought I should see the light from the windows, Mr. Van Brunt."

"The light from the windows! the storm rattled so agin' the windows, that mother made me pull the great shutters to. I won't have 'em shut again of a stormy night, that's a fact; you'd ha' gone far enough afore you'd ha' seen the light through them shutters."

"Then we had passed the house already, hadn't we?"

"Indeed, had you, Ma’am. I guess you saw my light, han't you?"

"Yes, and glad enough we were to see it, too."

"I suppose so. It happened so to-night — now that is a queer thing — I minded that I hadn't untied my horse; he's a trick of being untied at night, and won't sleep well if he ain't; and mother wanted me to let him alone 'cause of the awful storm, but I couldn't go to my bed in peace till I had seen him to his'n. So that's how my lantern came to be going to the barn in such an awk'ard night as this."

They had reached the little gate, and Mr. Van Brunt with some difficulty pulled it open. The snow lay thick upon the neat brick walk which Ellen had trod the first time with wet feet and dripping garments. A few steps further, and they came to the same door that had opened then so hospitably to receive her. As the faint light of the lantern was thrown upon the old latch and door-posts, Ellen felt at home; and a sense of comfort sank down into her heart which she had not known for some time.

Mr. van Brunt flung open the door, and the two wet and weary travellers stepped after him into the same cheerful, comfortable-looking kitchen that had received Ellen once before. Just the same — tidy, clean swept up, a good fire, and the same old red-backed chairs standing round on the hearth in most cozy fashion. It seemed to Ellen a perfect storehouse of comfort; the very walls had a kind face for her. There were no other faces, however; the chairs were all empty. Mr. Van Brunt put Alice in one and Ellen in another, and shouted, "Mother! — here!" — muttering that she had taken herself off with the light somewhere. Not very far: for in half a minute, answering the call, Mrs. Van Brunt and the light came hurriedly in.