"Isabel dear, I think we must turn back very soon."
"Oh, why?" she said. "Why? You always say that when--" There came a break
in her voice, and she ceased to speak.
Her pace quickened so that he had some difficulty in keeping up with her,
but he made no protest. With the utmost patience he also pressed on.
But it was not long before her strength began to fail. She stumbled once
or twice, and he put a supporting hand under her elbow. As they neared
the edge of the pines it became evident that the road dwindled to a mere
mountain-path winding steeply upwards through the snow. The sun shone
dazzlingly upon the great waste of whiteness.
Very suddenly Isabel stopped. "He can't have gone this way after all,"
she said, and turned to her brother with eyes of tragic hopelessness.
"Stumpy, Stumpy, what shall I do?"
He drew her hand very gently through his arm. "We will go back, dear," he
said.
A low sob escaped her, but she did not weep. "If I only had the strength
to go on and on and on!" she said. "I know I should find him some day
then."
"You will find him some day," he answered with grave assurance. "But not
yet."
They went back to the turn in the road where the sound of the stream rose
like fairy music from an unseen glen. The snow lay pure and untrodden
under the trees.
Scott paused again, and this time Isabel made no remonstrance. They stood
together listening to the rush of the torrent.
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