ith redoubled vehemence; the leaders swerved from it,
and were just rising to jump over the parapet, when the coachman, whose
hands were nearly insensible with cold, threw his leg over the reins,
and pulled them up. One of the leaders reared, and fell backwards; one
of the wheelers kicked vigorously; a few moments, and in spite of the
guard at their heads, all was one struggling mass of bodies and legs,
with a broken pole in the midst. The few passengers got down; and
Robert, fearing that yet worse might happen and remembering the lady,
opened the door. He found her quite composed. As he helped her out,

'What is the matter?' asked the voice dearest to him in the world--the
voice of Miss St. John.

He gave a cry of delight. Wrapped in the horse-cloth, Miss St. John did
not know him.

'What is the matter?' she repeated.

'Ow, naething, mem--naething. Only I doobt we winna get ye hame the
nicht.'

'Is it you, Robert?' she said, gladly recognizing his voice.

'Ay, it's me, and Mr. Ericson. We'll tak care o' ye, mem.'

'But surely we shall get home!'

Robert had heard the crack of the breaking pole.

''Deed, I doobt no.'

'What are we to do, then?'

'Come into the lythe (shelter) o' the bank here, oot o' the gait o' thae
brutes o' horses,' said Robert, taking off his horse-cloth and wrapping
her in it.

The storm hissed and smote all around them. She took Robert's arm.
Followed by Ericson, they left the coach and the struggling horses, and
withdrew to a bank that overhung the road. As soon as they were out of
the wind, Robert, who had made up his mind, said,

'We canna be mony yairds frae the auld hoose o' Bogbonnie. We micht win
throu the nicht there weel eneuch. I'll speir at the gaird, the minute
the horses are clear. We war 'maist ower the brig, I heard the coachman
say.'

'I know quite well where the old house is,' said Ericson. 'I went in the
last time I walked this way.'

'Was the door open?' asked Robert.

'I don't know,' answered Ericson. 'I found one of the windows open in
the basement.'

'We'll get the len' o' ane o' the lanterns, an' gang direckly. It canna
be mair nor the breedth o' a rig or twa frae the burn.'

'I can take you by the road,' said Ericson.

'It will be very cold,' said Miss St. John,--already shivering, partly
from disquietude.

'There's timmer eneuch there to haud 's warm for a twalmonth,' said
Robert.

He went back to the coach. By this time the horses were nearly