heads on pillows of snow, never to rise again; of homeless
wanderers, outcasts from society, many with famished babes at their
breasts, cowering under dark arches, or warming themselves at smoldering
fires.

"Thank God that, as father says, we cannot realize what people have to
suffer," thought Bessie. "What would be the use of being young and happy
and free from pain, if we were to feel other people's miseries? Some of
us, who are sympathetic by nature, would never smile again. I don't
think when God made us, and sent us into the world to live our own
lives, that He meant us to feel like that. One can't mix up other
people's lives with one's own; it would make an awful muddle."

"Miss Lambert, are you asleep, or dreaming with your eyes open? Don't
you see we are moving? There was such a bustle just now, and then they
got the steam up, and now the engine is beginning to work. Oh! how
slowly we are going! I could walk faster. Oh! we are stopping again--no,
it is only my fancy. Is not the shriek of the whistle musical for once?"

"I was not asleep; I was only thinking; but my thoughts had travelled
far. Are we really moving? There, the snow-plow has cleared the line; we
shall go on faster presently."

"I hope so; it is nearly eight. I ought to have reached London an hour
ago. Poor Neville, how disappointed he will be. Oh, we are through the
drift now and they are putting on more steam."

"Yes, we shall be at Cliffe in another ten minutes;" and Bessie roused
in earnest. Those ten minutes seemed interminable before the lights of
the station flashed before their eyes.

"Here she is--here is our Bessie!" exclaimed a voice, and a fine-looking
young fellow in an ulster ran lightly down the platform as Bessie waved
her handkerchief. He was followed more leisurely by a handsome,
gray-haired man with a quiet, refined-looking face.

"Tom--oh, Tom!" exclaimed Bessie, almost jumping into his arms, as he
opened the carriage door. "Were mother and Hattie very frightened? Why,
there is father!" as Dr. Lambert hurried up.

"My dear child, how thankful I am to see you! Why, she looks quite
fresh, Tom."

"As fit as possible," echoed Tom.

"Yes, I am only cold. Father, the guard put me in with a young lady. She
was going to London, but it is too late for her to travel alone, and she
is afraid of going to a hotel. May I bring her home? Her name is Edna
Sefton. She lives at The Grange, Oatlands."

Dr. Lambert seemed somewhat tak