The wind had somewhat lessened of its
violence, and, besides, it blew not now in their faces, but
against their backs, helping them on. Still the snow continued
to fall very fast, and already lay thick upon the ground;
every half hour increased the heaviness and painfulness of
their march; and darkness gathered till the very fences could
no longer be seen. It was pitch dark; to hold the middle of
the road was impossible; their only way was to keep along by
one of the fences; and, for fear of hurting themselves against
some outstanding post or stone, it was necessary to travel
quite gently. They were indeed in no condition to travel
otherwise, if light had not been wanting. Slowly and
patiently, with painful care groping their way, they pushed on
through the snow and the thick night. Alice could _feel_ the
earnestness of Ellen's grasp upon her clothes; and her clothes
pressing up to her, made their progress still slower and more
difficult than it would otherwise have been.
"Miss Alice," said Ellen.
"What, my child?"
"I wish you would speak to me once in a while."
Alice freed one of her hands, and took hold of Ellen's.
"I have been so busy picking my way along, I have neglected
you, haven't I?"
"Oh, no, Ma’am. But I like to hear the sound of your voice
sometimes; it makes me feel better."
"This is an odd kind of travelling, isn't it?" said Alice,
cheerfully; — "in the dark, and feeling our way along? This
will be quite an adventure to talk about, won't it?"
"Quite," said Ellen.
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