Hannah's words were suddenly cut short, for Jovial, who was going on before her, fell sprawling over some object that lay directly across the path, and the lantern rolled down the hill.
"What is the matter, Jovial?" she inquired.
"Honey, I done fell—fell over somefin' or oder; it is—law, yes—"
"What, Jovial?"
"It's a 'oman, honey; feels like Miss Nora."
In an instant Hannah was down on her knees beside the fallen figure, clearing away the snow that covered it.
"It is Nora," she said, trying to lift the insensible body; but it was a cold, damp, heavy weight, deeply bedded in the snow, and resisted all her efforts.
"Oh, Jovial, I am afraid she is dead! and I cannot get her up! You come and try!" wept Hannah.
"Well, there now, I knowed it—I jest did; I knowed if she was turned out in de snow-storm this night she'd freeze to death! Ole mist'ess aint no better dan a she-bearess!" grumbled the old man, as he rooted his arms under the cold dead weight of the unfortunate girl, and with much tugging succeeded in raising her.
"Now, den, Miss Hannah, hadn't I better tote her back to my ole 'oman?"