They have a child, however, I am told,
and for its sake I must go and see after them. Come with me, Amy, and I
promise that you will be quite contented when you return home."
It was rather late in the afternoon when the busy Leonard appeared at the
door in his strong one-horse sleigh with its movable seat, and Amy found
that he had provided an ample store of vegetables, flour, etc. She
started upon the expedition with genuine zest, to which every mile of
progress added.
The clouded sky permitted only a cold gray light, in which everything
stood out with wonderful distinctness. Even the dried weeds with their
shrivelled seed-vessels were sharply defined against the snow. The beech
leaves which still clung to the trees were bleached and white, but the
foliage on the lower branches of the oaks was almost black against the
hillside. Not a breath of air rustled them. At times Leonard would stop
his horse, and when the jingle of the sleigh-bells ceased the silence was
profound. Every vestige of life had disappeared in the still woods, or
was hidden by the snow.
"How lonely and dreary it all looks!" said Amy, with a sigh.
"That is why I like to look at a scene like this," Leonard replied.
"When I get home I see it all again--all its cold desolation--and it
makes Maggie's room, with her and the children around me, seem like
heaven."
But oh, the contrast to Maggie's room that Amy looked upon after a ride
over a wood-road so rough that even the deep snow could not relieve its
rugged inequalities! A dim glow of firelight shone through the frosted
window-panes of a miserable dwelling, as they emerged in the twilight
from the narrow track in the growing timber.
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