He would go and see how his snow-chamber looked by candlelight.

His mother had told him not to go out; but that, he reasoned, could hardly be called going out, when there was not more than a yard of open air to cross.

So he got a candle, was out of the window in a moment, notwithstanding his lameness, and crept through the long vault of snow towards the inmost recess.

As he approached the end he started.

Could he believe his eyes?
A figure was there--motionless--dead perhaps.