A sense of injustice, of ill-usage, came to her, and she dried her eyes; she was young, and brave, and strong; and must; and would care for herself. She should not perish; day would come some time, and she should get out. She found she was very cold, and must arouse and exert herself. Then came the thought and dread of wild animals; of that awful beast; and she listened, and could hear their stealthy steps in the dry leaves, and she shrunk from meeting the horrid glare of their eyes. Oh, if Barton were only with her, just to drive them away! God would protect him.
There—as she could not help but stare into the black darkness, there surely was the glare of their eyes, that horrid, yellowish-green, glassy glare! and with a shriek she fled—not far, for she fell, and a half swoon brought her a moment's oblivion; when the dead cold night, and the dumb trees came back about her again. With the reaction she arose, and found that she had lost her hood. She felt that a wild beast had torn it from her head; and that she had taken his hot, brute breath.
Weak, hardly with the power of motion, she supported herself by the trunk of a tree. "Father! Father God! a helpless, weak child calls to Thee; show me my sin, let me repent of it; weak and lost, and hopeless; sweet Saviour, with Thy loving sympathy, stay and help my fainting heart. If it be Thy will that I perish, receive my spirit, and let this weak, vain body, unmangled, be given back to my poor grief-stricken parents. God and Saviour, hear me!"
There now came to her ear the voice of running water. It had a sweet sound of companionship and hope, and she made towards it, and soon found herself on the banks of a wild and rapid stream. "Oh, thanks! thanks!" she murmured, "this runs from darkness out to human habitations, somewhere. It will lead out to daylight, and on its banks are human homes, somewhere. Oh, give me strength to follow it, it is so hard to perish here!"
The wind had long been blowing, and had now risen to a tempest, bitter and sharp from the north, and the trees were bending and breaking under its fury. Julia was thoroughly chilled, and her feet were benumbed with cold. She had been aware for some time that snow was sifting over her, and rattling on the dry leaves under her feet. She was dizzy, and almost overcome with sleep; and was conscious of strange visions and queer voices, that seemed to haunt her senses. Could she hold out till morning? She could not fix her wandering mind, even on this question. She occasionally heard her own voice in broken murmurs, but did not understand what she said. It was like the voice of another. She knew her mouth was dry and parched with thirst, but never thought of trying to drink from the stream, whose drowsy voice ran through her wandering consciousness. The impulse to move on remained long after all intelligent power of directing her movements had left her; and blindly and mechanically, she staggered and reeled about for a few or many minutes, until she sank to the earth unable and unwilling to struggle further. Her last act was with pure womanly instinct, to draw her torn and draggled skirts about her limbs and feet. The faces of her father and mother, warm and sweet, were with her for a moment, and she tried to think of her Heavenly Father; and another face was all the time present, full of tenderness and love; and then all faded into oblivion, blank and utter …
What was it? something whispered, or seemed to whisper in her heart as vague consciousness returned, unutterably sweet; was it the voice of an angel coming to bear her hence? Once again! and now her ear caught—and still again—a voice of earth, clear; and it had power to start her up from under the snow, that was surely weaving and thickening her virgin winding-sheet. God in heaven! once again! Strong, clear and powerful, it pealed through the arches of the forest, overtopping the tempest. It was a voice she knew, and if aught might, it would have called her back from death; as now, from a deadly swoon.
And once again, and nearer, with a cadence of impatience, and almost doubt, a faint answer went back; and then a gleam of light; a broad, wavering circle of glory, and Barton, with his flashing eyes, and eager, flushed face, with his mass of damp curls filled with snow, and dashed back, sprang with a glad cry to her side!
"Barton!" she cried, trying to rise, and throwing out her hands to him.
"Oh, Julia! you are found! you are alive! Thank God! thank God!" Throwing himself on his knees by her, and, clasping her cold hands in his, and, in a paroxysm, pressing them to his lips and heart, and covering them with kisses and with tears.
"God sent you to me! God sent you to me!" murmured the poor, dear grateful girl.