My poor papa! poor Mr.Little!" She kneeled down on the snow, and prayed patiently, and prepared to deliver up her innocent soul to Him who gave it.
Not so her companion.

He writhed away from death.

He groaned, he sighed, he cursed, he complained.

What was Raby thinking of, to let them perish?
Presently he shouted out--"I'll not die this dog's death, I will not.
I'll save myself, and come back for you." The girl prayed on, and never heeded him.
But he was already on his feet, and set off to run: and he actually did go blundering on for a furlong and more, and fell into a mountain-stream, swollen by floods, which whirled him along with it like a feather, it was not deep enough to drown him by submersion, but it rolled him over and over again, and knocked him against rocks and stones, and would infallibly have destroyed him, but that a sudden sharp turn in the current drove him, at last, against a projecting tree, which he clutched, and drew himself out with infinite difficulty.

But when he tried to walk, his limbs gave way; and he sank fainting on the ground, and the remorseless snow soon covered his prostrate body.
All this time, Grace Carden was kneeling on the snow, and was, literally a heap of snow.