CONCLUSION.

Lead kindly Light, amid the encircling gloom,
Lead Thou me on.

The night is dark, and I am far from home,
Lead Thou me on.

O'er moor and fen, d'er crag and torrent, till
The night is gone,

And with the morn those angel faces smile,
Which I have loved long since, and lost awhile.

ON the following morning Wandering Willie was astir betimes. He was bound for the farm-house where dwelt Roger's father-a good step, as he said to Lois, across the hills.

It was not snowing when he started. The morning clouds were even touched with red, but there were others hanging low down, grey clouds with wind-frayed edges, that looked heavy still with

snow.

Lois went with the old man as far as the gate, over the path, where already, people coming and going, had beaten a track across the snow.

she parted from him.

There

'It makes me sad to see you going away alone,' she said, leaning over the gate, which he had already passed through, and holding his hand

across it.

'It is good to be alone,' said Willie, quietly.

'But the journey will be so long-so toilsome.' 'Then, Lois, I shall sleep the sounder at the end,' answered the old man with a smile.

"Ah,' said Lois, 'you are tired already.'

Already,' he repeated musingly. Am I already tired? Is it not nearly time for rest? Lois,' he went on,'' there was an old man who made a prayer once, and I think since then it has ever been the best-loved prayer of all the old and the weary. You know it?'

'I think I do,' said Lois.

But still, as if he could

'Yes, you know it well.' not resist repeating the dear words, Willie uncovered his head, saying in an earnest voice,' Lord, now lettest Thou Thy servant depart in peace, according to Thy word.' Then he turned to Lois with his child-like smile, and continued: 'I have prayed it so very often, Lois, that I sometimes think the answer must come soon.'

For a moment or two he still stood looking upward; afterwards, he bade farewell again to Lois.

And Lois, answering in the words she knew would please him best, said to him, 'Go in peace.'

She was glad that he left her with a smile-glad of the blessing he called down upon her head.

Watching him as he went away steadily, with his face turned towards the sun-rising, it seemed to Lois as if a rose-tinted morning cloud went with him and overshadowed him.

On the evening of the following day Roger's father rode up to the farm-house.

He brought tidings of wild weather out upon the moors, and told how he and his good horse had been more than once all but buried in a snow-drift. 'I should not have cared to come across on such a tempestuous day,' he added, only I want an answer, Roger, to my question.'

'But you got my answer, surely,' said Roger, quickly; Wandering Willie carried it to you yesterday.'

His father shook his head. 'Wandering Willie has not been nigh our place,' he said, in a marked, grave tone.

All looked at each other, but no one spoke, only Lois gave a low cry, 'Oh Willie, poor Willie!'

'Lois,' said Roger, coming to her side, 'trust us; we will do all we can--all that there is to do.'

Half-an-hour later every man about the farm went out into the darkness.

Lois, watching with her mother, saw her father go; Roger's father too-his long ride and his weariness quite forgotten. They walked with deliberate determined steps, and few words.

Far ahead already, Lois could just distinguish Roger-all the young men of the place following him as he stood for a moment a dim figure against a dark sky. He disappeared, and Lois said in her heart,' May God go with him.'

Three hours-four hours passed-they must be searching still! None of them returned that night.

About midnight the scattered groups of searchers met together. It was a striking scene.

The setting moon, hung round with inky clouds, cast a pale glimmering of light down on to the snow. All round, the moors lay wild and tumbled, with black shadows here and there, cast by the waning

moon.

It was cold, but intensely still, with a hush that gave an impression of breathless expectation.

For a little while the men stood together consulting. Then they separate again, Lois's father

1

heading one party of searchers, while Roger went with the other.

All carried lanterns, and when they had gone a little way in their different directions, each, looking back towards the others, could only see a few shadowy figures gliding on into the darkness.

The night passed on. The moon set, and the hours of great darkness that came before the dawn had stolen upon them.

At last there came a shout from those a little way in front. The others hurried up. They had found footmarks in the snow. For a little time they followed them clearly; then they failed, for the wind had blown the snow wildly about, and had effaced them.

They dispersed once more, and searched eagerly and silently. By and by one of them called again. The footmark was found, and they never quite lost it afterwards. Sometimes it went straight forward for a little way, then it turned back over almost the same ground. Once or twice the steps crossed and recrossed each other. Often, from the marks in the snow, it seemed as if some one had stood still and waited, and turned this way and that, searching for the road.

Then they stood still too and shouted, calling the