so, only to find the house closed.

Here was a little light, but it did not relieve his perplexity.
Ruey's father's home was in a distant State. She certainly would not
go so far away in the dead of winter. He could recall no
acquaintances living near. Had she become insane and wandered away?
But she evidently meant to return that day. Why did she not come?
Where was she? The cold sweat stood upon his face when he remembered
stories of abductions. He went to the depot and remained the whole
night, watching the trains that came from anywhere. Morning dawned;
she had not come. As a last resort, he would telegraph to his own
home. But why would she go there, and without him? It seemed a
useless thing, but he did it. After an age of waiting he received
answer--"Ruey left here for home yesterday morning on the seven
o'clock train." He soon learned that said train was snow-bound a
hundred miles away. His anxiety now assumed a new phase. Would she
starve or freeze before he could reach her? There was no time to be
lost. Supplying himself with provisions, blankets, etc., he took the
first northerly train, travelled as far as he could by rail, then
hired conveyances to carry him to where men and snow-ploughs were
cutting a road to the imprisoned cars. Mr. Thorne joined them in
their work. His strength seemed superhuman. Muscular men were amazed
at his swift, dexterous movements. All day they toiled. The following
night was a terrible one to the heart-sick passengers. The fires were
out; not a morsel of food to eat. Ruey, chilled and weak, could not
even find relief in sleep. Her fortitude nearly deserted her. The
tears had their way. She lay curled in her seat, a wretched,
disconsolate little heap, when a brown-bearded man, muffled in furs,
entered, flashing the light of his lantern here and there, eagerly
scrutinizing the faces. He paused at Ruey's seat, an indefinable
something attracting him, though the face was covered by two hands.
Suddenly she looked up, and there were Philip's dear eyes gazing into
hers. No questions were asked or answered just then. She was gathered
in his arms for an instant; then he wrapped her in blankets, brought
food, and nursed the colour back to the white cheeks.

Then there were long stories told on both sides, and Ruey laughed and
cried by turns, and all the passengers were in lively sympathy with
the little lady who had found her husband, or rather whose husband
had found her.

When Mr. an