so singularly situated, forgot for three minutes their mutual anxiety. Longer it would be impossible to forget it.
"Do not you think I might go to look for my father now, Mr. ——?"
"Randolph"—supplied that gentleman.
"Oh, thank you!—Mr. Randolph?"
"I do not see how you could, really;" and, without intending it in the least, but simply through his embarrassment, Randolph glanced hastily at her scanty dress, which thereby she blushingly understood to be his objection.
"If I could get only a blanket from father's wagon! Do you think it would be possible? Would you be running a risk to try for a blanket, do you think, Mr. Randolph? If there is any risk, please do not go; but I am so anxious—so terribly anxious."
He knew she was, and knew the reason she had for her apprehensions; so, although he mistrusted the result of his errand, he answered simply: "Certainly; I will go, if you are not afraid to be left alone. I shall be in no danger."
"O, thank you—thank you! You will bring me a message from my father?"
"I hope so, indeed, since you desire it so much. I think you had better sit down on this newspaper, and let me cover your shoulders with my coat."
"No, indeed. If you are going near the fire, you will need it to protect you from cinders."
But Randolph quickly divested himself of his upper garment, and laid it lightly over her shivering form; then quietly charging her to feel no alarm, and as little anxiety as possible, strode rapidly away toward the fire. Fifteen minutes afterward he returned more slowly, with a blanket, which Anne rose up to receive.
"My father? Did you see my father?"
"I did not see him. He must have taken his horses off a little distance for safety, and you may not see him for
