.

All at once a bright light flashed upon his dazzled eyes. It came from
a low, wide door beyond the side-walk. He put out his hands blindly,
feeling his way towards it, not daring to think where his wanderings had
brought him, till mocking laughter startled him into the knowledge that
he was once more at the mouth of that hell. He turned as though he
would have fled; but he suffered himself to be drawn into the wretched
tavern.

I cannot tell what happened there that night. Just what happens, I
suppose, to many a poor lost wretch every night in the year, in the dark
places hidden away in lanes and back streets of our cities and towns.

When Stephen Grattan went next morning to fulfil his promise to Morely
he did not see Mr Smith; but the clerk told him it was all right--for
he had himself helped to lift the barrel of flour onto the sled which
was to take it away. No doubt it was all right.

He did not tell Stephen--perhaps he did not know--that the barrel of
flour had been taken away by the tavern-keeper in payment for drink, and
that there was no chance of its ever reaching the little log-house on
the hill. Stephen would have liked to go up to the cottage; but the
storm still continued. The snow lay deep and unbroken on the road, and
it would have been a dangerous walk.

"Besides, I could not tell her truly that his courage was good--poor
soul!--and without that I might as well stay at home." That worse news
awaited them Stephen himself did not know as yet.

CHAPTER TWO.

A SNOW STORM.

Perched on a hill-top overlooking the village of Littleton, stood the
humble log-house in which the Morelys had taken refuge. It was on the
other side of the river from the village, and was by the road full two
miles distant. It had been a poor place when they took possession of
it; and it was a poor place still--though Morely's skilful hands had
greatly improved it.

In summer it was a very pleasant place. Behind it lay a wide stretch of
sloping pasture-land, and the forest crowned the hill. It was not a
very fertile spot, to be sure. It was full of hillocks and hollows, and
there were great rocks scattered here and there through it, and places
where the underwood had sprung up again after the first clearing.
Later, when the November rains fell, and the wind blew through the
hollows, it was dreary enough. It needed the sunshine to make it
bright. But the hill screened it from the bitter north; and it was