ew the road--so long as there was any road; but there was none now.
I felt it would not be fair to wife and child. So, reluctantly and with
much hesitation, but definitely at last, I made up my mind that I was
going to wait till morning. My cutter was ready--I had seen to that on
Wednesday. As soon as the storm had set in, I had instinctively started
to work in order to frustrate its designs.

At noon I met in front of the post-office a charming lady who with her
husband and a young Anglican curate constituted about the only circle of
real friends I had in town. "Why!" I exclaimed, "what takes you out into
this storm, Mrs. ----?" "The desire," she gasped against the wind and
yet in her inimitable way, as if she were asking a favour, "to have
you come to our house for tea, my friend. You surely are not going this
week?" "I am going to go to-morrow morning at seven," I said. "But I
shall be delighted to have tea with you and Mr. ----." I read her at
a glance. She knew that in not going out at night I should suffer--she
wished to help me over the evening, so I should not feel too much
thwarted, too helpless, and too lonesome. She smiled. "You really want
to go? But I must not keep you. At six, if you please." And we went our
ways without a salute, for none was possible at this gale-swept corner.

After four o'clock I took word to the stable to have my horses fed and
harnessed by seven in the morning. The hostler had a tale to tell. "You
going out north?" he enquired although he knew perfectly well I was. "Of
course," I replied. "Well," he went on, "a man came in from ten miles
out; he was half dead; come, look at his horses! He says, in places the
snow is over the telephone posts." "I'll try it anyway," I said. "Just
have the team ready I know what I can ask my horses to do. If it cannot
be done, I shall turn back, that is all."

When I stepped outside again, the wind seemed bent upon shaking the
strongest faith. I went home to my house across the bridge and dressed.
As soon as I was ready, I allowed myself to be swept past stable, past
hotel and post-office till I reached the side street which led to the
house where I was to be the guest.

How sheltered, homelike and protected everything looked inside. The
hostess, as usual, was radiantly amiable. The host settled back after
supper to talk old country. The Channel Islands, the French Coast,
Kent and London--those were from common knowledge our most frequently
recurring