r crushing sorrow in ministering to
his wants. But the instant he could walk without support, and long
before it was prudent to do so, Frank joined in the search. At first he
could do little, but as day after day passed by his strength returned so
rapidly that the only symptoms that remained to tell of his late
accident were his pale cheek and the haggard expression of his
countenance. But the mysterious disappearance of Edith had more to do
with the latter than illness.

Weeks passed away, but still the dark cloud of sorrow hung over Fort
Chimo, for the merry young voice that was wont to awake the surrounding
echoes was gone. The systematic search had now been given up, for every
nook, every glen, and gorge, and corrie within fifteen miles of the spot
where they had found the little sledge, had been searched again and
again without success. But hope clung with singular tenacity to the
parents' hearts long after it had fled from those of the men of the fort
and of the Esquimaux. Every alternate day Stanley and Frank sallied
forth with heavy steps and furrowed brows to explore more carefully
those places where the child was most likely to have strayed, expecting,
yet fearing, to find her dead body. But they always returned to the
bereaved mother with silent lips and downcast looks.

They frequently conversed together about her, and always in a hopeful
tone, each endeavouring to conceal from the other the real state of his
own mind. Indeed, except when necessity required it, they seldom spoke
on any other subject.

One day Stanley and Frank were seated by the blazing stove in the hall
conversing as usual about the plan of the search for that day. Mrs
Stanley was busied in preparing breakfast.

"'Tis going to blow hard from the north, Frank," said Stanley, rising
and looking out of the window; "I see the icebergs coming into the river
with the tide. You will have a cold march, I fear."

Frank made no reply, but rose and approached the window. The view from
it was a strange one. During the night a more than usually severe frost
had congealed the water of the lake in the centre, and the icebergs that
sailed towards the Caniapuscaw River in stately grandeur went crashing
through this young ice as if it had been paper, their slow but steady
progress receiving no perceptible check from its opposition. Some of
these bergs were of great size, and in proceeding onwards they passed so
close to the fort that the in