Suddenly he paused, stumbling in bewilderment and terror He had stepped into a deep snowdrift, which rose nearly to his knees. He looked wildly round, but could discern nothing. He pressed his way forward, and stumbled against the frozen root of a great tree. He turned and groped another way; again something interposed. Gradually, straining his eyes through the darkness, he discerned that he was surrounded by trees on every side.
He had wandered from the avenue, and was long among the plantations—he could not tell in what direction.
How long he wandered among the dreary woods he could not tell.
A mortal fever was upon him, and he struggled confusedly this way and that, sometimes stumbling and falling amid the snow, sometimes coming violently against the frozen tree-trunks, sometimes rushing among briers and tangled underwoods which clutched him like fingers, and rent his clothing as he tore himself away.
He shouted, thinking he might be heard. His shout rose faintly on the wind, and was echoed by unearthly voices.
Then he seemed to see sheeted shapes passing before him; ghostly faces flashing into his own, and fading away. He saw her face, marble-white as he had seen it in death, and with horrible rebuking eyes.
Ah, that night! that night! He passed an eternity of agony, in a few hours!
At last he fell, half fainting, on the stump of a tree, and rested, afraid to venture further. Pausing there, he clasped his hands together and prayed.
For her; for himself. He prayed to Heaven for help and mercy. In his abject fear and humiliation, he prostrated his soul before his God. His strength seemed failing him, and he felt as if he were dying. Ah, the horrible darkness! the nameless terror! Would he ever live to see the light again?
The snow thickened and fell upon him; he shook it off again and again, but still it fell, blinding and covering him. He became very cold, despite the fever in his veins—cold as death. Afraid to perish that way, he rose to his feet and struggled on.