His heart sank within him when he thought
of Carl, exposed to the whole fury of the
storm! How it raged in his face! The fierce
wind blew into it that fine, sharp-cutting,
pointed snow, so well known to those who
have been out in like storms; and hurled at his
head frozen branches, which it had snapped
off in its fury as it swept past him howling
madly. On, on he rode, his gallant horse
answering the spur with fresh bounds, though
it was with great difficulty he could keep his
feet; and once, when a gust of wind came up
fiercer than ever, the poor creature turned
completely round; he could not face it. It was
well for both horse and rider that their road
lay alongside the forest; the tall black
skeletons served as a landmark for them in the
wild dreary waste of snow before them,
though it was no shelter to them, as the
storm swept over the wide plain which lay to
their left. "Carl! Carl!" shouted Eric;
"He never can weather such a storm," he
thought; "he has never seen anything like
it! Why did I leave him!"

At length he thought he saw something
black moving slowly towards him. To his
infinite joy and relief, he discovered it to be
the sleigh he had come in search of. "Steady
there, steady!" he heard, in the native
language and deep tones of his friend's voice;
"Woho, my brave lads!" as his horses shied
at the approach of Eric; and then there
was a shout of recognition.

"I knew," said Eric, "you would clear
the sleigh, and bring your company along
safe; but I feared you might lose your way
and perish, this wild night."

"Don't say another word," said Carl.
"You had better come into the sleigh and
drive; you know the road better than I do,
and I want to enjoy my cigar after all my
fatigue. These horses are not so fresh as
yours were, Eric. I suppose terror, poor
brutes, has taken it out of them."

So Eric got into the sleigh, and the
manservant who had been thrown out in the first
encounter with the wolves, rode his horse
back. Carl reclined lazily, and smoked a
cigar, in spite of the snow and the raging
wind; though it was not quite so bad when
their backs were turned to it. Eric, with a
heart bounding with joy, and every nerve
tingling with emotion, leant towards the
horses, and urged them on with voice and
hand. They sprang forward as if imbued
with his own energy. At the entrance of
Stettin they met a party despatched to their
help. Right glad were they to return, for it
was almost impossible for men on foot to
advance against such a storm.

CHAPTER THE THIRD.

Arrived at the hotel, the bruised servant
was led up-stairs, and got into bed. Carl
and Eric, ushered by the landlord, found
themselves in a room prepared for them,
and with cigars and spirits on the table, and
slippers by the fire, sat down to enjoy the
repose they had well earned.

"Carl," said Eric, between the whiffs of
the meerschaum he was smoking, "do you
know who the ladies are whom we rescued
to-night?"

"No," said Carl, knocking the ashes off his
cigar with his finger. "I was just going to ask
you." And he leant back in the deep arm chair,
and stretched his feet out before the fire.

"I don't suppose you will ever guess. It
is she!"

"Who?"

"The lady of the Sistine Chapel!"
answered Eric; "my dream—my vision! I
knew her at once as she stood there, her
golden curls streaming in the wind, and her
beautiful blue eyes raised to Heaven. As
we came along, I think she recognised me."

"And what is her name?"

"I did not ask her. I must find out to-night."

"Not ask her her name," said Carl, raising
his eyes in astonishment. "What were you
talking about so earnestly, that you forgot to
ask her name?"

"Nothing," said Eric. "She said a great
deal to me about taking her back, so that I
might help you, and wait till you were ready
to come back with us."

"Much obliged to her, I am sure, for
taking so much interest in me. And what
did you say in answer to her proposal?"

"Nothing," said Eric.

"Nothing, Eric—nothing? What were
you thinking about so intently, that you
could not answer her?"

"I am not sure," said he, looking puzzled.

"Well, this must end in love, I should
think, if it is not already begun," said Carl.
"She must, out of pure gratitude, love
the handsome knight who so gallantly came
to her rescue, and is yet so daunted by her
eyes that he cannot speak to her."

"I suppose it is fate," said Eric.

"And a very pleasant fate, my dear fellow,
to fall in love with a beautiful girl, with the
not improbable hope that she may return
your affection. But I should like to know
the name of your beautiful lady with the
golden locks; let us ask the landlord."

"I never thought of that," said Eric.

"Of course not," returned Carl, laughing.
"Who ever heard of a lover doing anything
half so matter-of-fact!"

The landlord now came in, followed by a
waiter bearing a savoury supper. It seemed
as if worthy Herr Wirkmann could not do
honour enough to the young man who first
rescued the ladies, and then braved the storm
to go to the assistance of his friend.

"You seem to know the ladies we were so
fortunate as to save from the wolves, host?
Can you tell us who they are, and what are
their names; and do they live in this
neighbourhood?" asked Eric, of the hospitable
landlord, now busy superintending the placing
of the supper on the table.