" Upon which, he plunged his oars deeply into the stream, and the bark shot from the strand. He pointed to where the lights still burned in Anna’s windows. Feel for the lock, and prize it open,—you don't need to be told how. "Let me go," cried Winifred. “It’s glorious good!” “Suppose now—look at this long snow-slope and then that blue deep beyond —do you see that round pool of color in the ice—a thousand feet or more below? Yes? Well, think—we’ve got to go but ten steps and lie down and put our arms about each other. When things are at the worst, they'll mend. Wood, however, was too much excited to attend to the caution. E.
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