er heart oppressed. Doubts troubled her.
Why had they let her come alone on this long journey? It was cruel. She
forgot the poor children, and, throwing herself down, she thought she
would go no farther. Her staff was still in her hand, and as she fell it
seemed to draw her gently up again, just as a magnet picks up a needle;
it led her to a little cave or grotto, merely a nook under great rocks,
but in it was a heap of leaves which would serve her as a place of
repose, and she would be sheltered from the approaching storm, which,
now that the wind had arisen, was swaying the trees violently. Crouching
in a corner, she listened to the crashing of boughs, the peals of
thunder, and the dash of the rain. But she was safe and unharmed.
Gradually the wind decreased, the vivid gleam of lightning stopped
flashing in her frightened eyes, the thunder rolled farther and farther
away; the birds began chirping softly; there was but a gentle plash of
drops from the dripping leaves; long rays of sunshine stole in between
the branches. The storm was over.

Laura took courage, ate her dinner, and started forth again.

She was not so merry as in the early morning; Nannette's song was
forgotten; but in her graver face was an expression of determination.
The poor children came again to her recollection, and she renewed her
zeal.

On and on she went, sometimes nearly falling, but her staff maintained
her, and prevented that. She climbed, she waded, she slipped, she
scrambled. Sometimes on dizzy heights she looked down into chasms; then
she would cross peaceful and lovely valleys; then the road would wind up
to some high summit again, giving her pictures of mountain-peaks and
clouds and all their many charms; and while on the crest of a high hill,
with all the heavens in a glow, she saw the sun sink beneath the
horizon, and knew that darkness would soon surround her. Hurriedly
descending, her staff led her to a group of oak-trees, whose wide and
shadowy boughs seemed to offer her the protection of which she was in
need. Farther and farther sank the sun, leaving clouds of purple and
gold to fade into the soft shades of twilight. The hush of evening fell
upon nature; stars peeped out. Laura watched the waning light until, too
tired to keep her eyes open, she laid her head upon her little knapsack,
and was soon in a deep slumber. Whether or not wild beasts came prowling
about, or owls hooted, or the night winds sighed in the tree-tops, Laura