eafless landscape over which the first slow snows were falling,
gave no indication of the tumult within; besides, the aspect of the
road and condition of the elements were calculated to banish personal
emotions, for even Poussette's hilarity was silenced by the increasing
velocity of the wind and the darkness dropping upon them. It was only
five miles to the _metairie_, but at the end of the second mile the sky
was absolutely blank and the snow so thick that heaps of it lay on the
horse's flanks and on their own laps and hands. It kept increasing at
such magical rate that the roadway was obscured and twice Dr. Renaud
found himself out on the rocky plateau at the left, instead of the
middle path. The priest and Miss Clairville had vanished in front, but
the three men could hear the sound of a horse on the slabs of rock
behind them, coming very swiftly too, and in a few minutes a second
buggy dashed madly by. The horse was running away, no doubt badly
frightened by the violence of the storm, and Ringfield recognized Mr.
and Mrs. Abercorn in the agonized couple holding bravely on, while the
excitable little mare dashed through the snow.

"My hands are freezing!" cried Dr. Renaud. "This is a big surprise--a
regular blizzard. We'll have to stop somewhere till it's over. I
never beheld such darkness--at three o'clock in the afternoon--nor such
sudden heaps of snow. Lucky for us if it does not turn to hail." He
had scarcely uttered the words when the snow flagged, ceased to fall,
then the hail began. Colder and colder grew the air with a strange,
unnatural feel in it as if in the proximity of icebergs, or of the hour
closest on dawn, and the hail, at first small and round, pretty and
harmless, came gently chattering about the horse's ears and back, came
faster and larger, came at last too fast and too large, came as stones
come that are flung by enemies and rioting mobs of people anxious for
vengeance. The doctor was afraid for his horse; one ear was cut and
bleeding and the animal could no longer face the blinding streams of
hail; he was covered and the men all got out, burying their heads in
their coats; but Ringfield, the worst off, since he had come without
gloves or muffler, was for ever casting anxious glances ahead, which
Poussette and the doctor understood.

"I _bette_ you!" cried the former; "Mr. Ringfield, sir, the _cure_--he
don't know what to do with Miss Clairville. He'll never get her home,
sure. He