Richard Forrest, Bachelor — page 256: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A LIVING SAINT. 247 the big collie, always thrusting his cold nose into her hand whenever there was anything on the tray particularly to his taste—all passed through her mind. How many, many miles away, it all seemed! She wondered whether she would survive to see it again. And shivering, she drew her aching fingers inside the folds of her cloak. The very blood seemed to be chilled in her veins. Slowly the patient horses plowed, knee-deep, into the heavy path before them, dragging their cumbersome load, which grew heavier with each turn of the wheels, and responding with all their might to the undeserved blows rained upon them. At last they reached the top of the mountain and began to descend the other side. Once more they found them- selves exposed to the full force of the wind, with the snow blowing about in such quantities that several times they were obliged to stop short in order to breathe. On they struggled, blinded, staggering, panting; no longer able to feel the pressure on the reins and forced to trust to their own instinct to find their way. The cold was so intense that Dick was expecting any in- stant to hear a cry of despair from the driver. Suddenly, from the priest’s corner, was heard a moan. Rose sprang toward him. ‘‘Rather!’’ she exclaimed. But he merely mumbled and turned his head feebly from side to side. ‘‘Oh, he is unconscious!’’ she cried, in alarm; freezing! In her distress she was about to tear off her cloak, when Dick laid his hand on her arm and spoke. ‘‘He may have this rug,’’ he uttered. “‘On no account must you giveup any of your wraps. It might mean (tt he is (©) GoOmichbooks