I was ushered into a large, lonesome room, in total darkness except for the light from the hall burner, which streamed dismally into its depths. A tall, black shadow soon announced himself as the landlord, to whom I made known my wants. His wife, a kind-hearted, energetic woman, took compassion on me, and showed me into her own private parlor to get warmed, for I was very chilly. Here the good lady's curiosity was piqued somewhat to find that the young man who accompanied me was not my husband, and that I proposed to go on the next morning to Bangor alone. I shuddered when she told me the journey was usually made in an open conveyance. Think of riding all day and all night on a board slung across an open wagon! And what if it should rain!
I bethought myself of two friends of mine who were visiting in C——, and to them I despatched my cards. After tea, when I was seated quietly in my room, Aunt Carter came. She is one of those good, kind souls who are always aunts to everybody. She came to me with hearty sympathy. The evening passed pleasantly away, for her simple words of faith and hope cheered and consoled me.
I slept but little that night. I lay thinking of my father, and of the morrow's journey, and listening to every sound. I fancied I heard it raining. At last I was almost sure of it. When I peeped out of the window in the gray of the dawn, the ground was white, and it was snowing fast.
Soon after breakfast my kind friends appeared, and the good clergyman also, who went down to make some inquiries about the stage coach for me, and, returning soon, announced with a very grave countenance that it had not connected with the cars at Bangor for nearly a week. In fact, that it was unusual for it to do so at this season.
'It seems to have set in for a storm,' said he. 'All our storms this winter have terminated in rain. There is a uniformity in storms,' he added, lugubriously, 'and if this should turn to rain, you cannot possibly get through.'
For a few moments my purpose was shaken. If I did not succeed in reaching the cars the next morning, I would be too late for my father's funeral, and my journey would be all but in vain. There was my mother, to be sure, but my whole heart turned to my father now. Could I, ought I to run this risk?
But, on the other hand, how could I relinquish my object when thus far on the way to it?
Blessings on Aunt Carter! She came to the rescue.
'Now,' said she, 'I have found that a good Providence always took care of me, and I believe He will take care of you. You've begun your journey and got thus far safely, and I believe you'll get through to Bangor in time. At any rate, if you don't, you will have the satisfaction of comforting your mother. I've been about the world considerable,' she continued, 'and I've always found a man to take care of me. Now you shall have my man to take care of you.'
Reassured by her hopeful words, I exclaimed: