A helmless ship in storm and darkness was in no more
pitiable condition than this poor lad.
On, on he went, falling sometimes, but struggling to his feet again
and blindly moving forward. All at once he came out from the narrow
rows of houses and stood on the edge of what seemed a great white
field that stretched away level as a floor. Onward a few paces, and
then--Alas for the waiting mother at home! She did not hear the cry
of terror that cut the stormy air and lost itself in the louder
shriek of the tempest as her son went over the treacherous line of
snow and dropped, with a quick plunge, into the river, sinking
instantly out of sight, for the tide was up and the ice broken and
drifting close to the water's edge.
CHAPTER II.
"COME, Fanny," said Mr. Wilmer Voss, speaking to his wife, "you must
get to bed. It is past twelve o'clock, and you cannot bear this loss
of rest and sleep. It may throw you all back again."
The woman addressed was sitting in a large easychair with a shawl
drawn closely about her person. She had the pale, shrunken face and
large, bright eyes of a confirmed invalid. Once very beautiful, she
yet retained a sweetness of expression which gave a tenderness and
charm to every wasted feature. You saw at a glance the cultured
woman and the patient sufferer.
As her husband spoke a fierce blast of wind drove the fine sand-like
snow against the windows, and then went shrieking and roaring away
over housetops, gables and chimneys.
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