Still, as if frozen where she stood, Janet waited for—she knew not what! Some one, in the dim, grayish light, was coming toward her, some one tall and strong, but well-nigh spent! The man had seen her, too.
"How far am I from the Station?" he shouted.
It was Thornly's voice! It was the little whistle's call that had stilled the storm, and brought hope!
Janet could not answer. All power seemed gone from her. When he came close he would know her and then—why, why had he come?
The girl had forgotten her disfiguring garments. Thornly was within a foot of her before he understood. Then he reeled back. The moon, for another still moment, shone full upon the ice-covered figure and the upturned face framed by the old sou'wester.
"My God!" he cried and stretched out his arms, hardly knowing whether he were warding off an apparition or reaching out to the woman he was seeking so earnestly.
"You!" he whispered, "you! Alone out here in all the storm and darkness!" She tried to answer, but words failed her. She smiled pitifully and put her hands in his.
"I have wandered for hours!" Thornly was holding the girl closer. "Do you hear and understand, Janet? I went to the Light. I saw your note lying open on the table; I was afraid for you! I lost my way on the ice. I had only Davy's Light to guide me; I landed, heaven only knows where! But I wanted you! I've got you at last!" A fierceness shook the eager voice, that was raised above the noises of the night.
"Yes!" Janet spoke low and dreamily; again the cold stilled her pain. The moon was hidden and grim darkness held them. "You—you want—me—to—help you finish—your picture!"
It really was a small matter; but even in the strangeness and numbness the girl wished he had not come. He was greater and dearer when he had stayed away and sacrificed his picture for her honor, and his own.