says Mrs. Joyce; "he's never standing

out in the cold?"

"No; he's under cover-brought horses down. Master Stephen bid him."

"To meet Mr. Wilford?"

William ostler nodded. The whole room was listening, and he seemed rather pleased at being so greatly an object of interest. It was a novel position for him, quite. Why, at that moment Mr. and Mrs. Joyce were mere cyphers compared to William, ostler; while the schoolmaster -bah! he was cut of the question altogether. William went on—

"Old gentleman's very bad."

It was the latest intelligence from the Grange, and was received with breathless interest.

"All say he's going fast as he can; but he's sensible, groom Frank says-so the housekeeper told 'em in the kitchen. He's

asked again for Master Wilford-keeps on asking for him. So Master Stephen sends down groom Frank with horses to meet him, 'cause, if this snaw goes on, he'll have a job to get through Chingley Bottom; and as for going on to Grange with same horses, with that road what it is, and what I've known to be any winter these last twelve years, why, it's more than horseflesh can do-that's what it is. A horse can't do more than a horse can, and if you goes for to try

But he stopped short, listening attentively.

"Wheels!" he cried.

All the room listened.

Some declared

it was fancy; others, no such thing. They could hear them quite well. The schoolmaster said he could hear nothing, but then he was a little hard of hearing on one side; yet, he said, with an air of philo

The

sophy, that he had often noticed that when people particularly wanted to hear a particular sound, then they were always given to think they did hear it. The remark was not thought much of, especially as the schoolmaster was wrong. sound of wheels was now distinctly audible. William, ostler, ran out with a lantern. Somebody drew the red curtains from before the long low window of the George. The heat of the room had clouded the glass. Many were occupied in rubbing clear a diamond pane of glass here and there, so that they might look out at the night and see what happened, as through peepholes.

"Lord! how it was snowing!" "Why,

the ground was quite

an inch thick already!"

white-the snow

"What a draught

there was with the front door open ! Oh! how cold!" "Who was that man out

side there, beyond the trough and the

66

sign-post?" Why, groom Frank, of

course, with the change of horses."

"Yo-ho! Yo-ho! O! O!"

"Yo-ho! Yo-ho! O! O!"

The postillion from afar off echoes William ostler's cry. Now you can plainly hear the dull thumping of the wheels over the rough road muffled by the snow. You can see the red carriage lights gleaming through the clouds of steam rising from the horses. The carriage makes slow progress in spite of all the whipping and spurring and the shrill threats and encouragement of the postboys. Indeed the horses are nearly deadbeat-you can hear their pantings through all the noise. What a ghastly look about the carriage, white with snow on all one side where the wind has been blowinga thick cake of snow on the roof, snow

on the lamps even, half melting-snow on the harness, on the horses-on every slightest projection to which it can cling by any possibility. Snow, too, Snow, too, on the cap of the traveller-on his shoulders, on his flowing jet-black beard. He has been leaning out of the window, passionately urging on the postboys.

"Why are you stopping, d-n you!"

he cries out savagely.

Groom Frank is at the window in a

minute, touching his hat.

"The horses

are quite done up-there's no further with them to-night.

going on

He has

Grange.

brought down fresh from the They'll be put to in two minutes. There's a good fire in the large room of the George. They can start again in two minutes."

"Is he alive?" the traveller asks in a husky whisper.