“We will be happy,” cried the child.  “We never can be, here!”

“No, we never can again—­never again—­that’s truly said,” rejoined the old man.  “Let us steal away to-morrow morning, early and softly, that we may not be seen or heard—­and leave no trace or track for them to follow by.  Poor Nell!  Thy cheek is pale, and thy eyes are heavy with watching and weeping for me; but thou wilt be well again, and merry too, when we are far away.  To-morrow morning, dear, we will turn our faces from this scene of sorrow, and be as free and happy as the birds.”

The child’s heart beat high with hope and confidence.  She had no thought of hunger or cold, or thirst, or suffering.  She saw in this a relief from the gloomy solitude in which she had lived, an escape from the heartless people by whom she had been surrounded in her late time of trial, the restoration of the old man’s health and peace, and a life of tranquil happiness.  Sun, and stream, and meadow, and summer days shone brightly in her view, and there was no dark tint in all the sparkling picture.

The old man had slept for some hours soundly, and she was yet busily engaged in preparing for their flight.  There were a few articles of clothing for herself to carry, and a few for him, and a staff to support his feeble steps.  But this was not all her task, for now she must say farewell to her own little room, where she had so often knelt down and prayed at night—­prayed for the time which she hoped was dawning now!  There were some trifles there, which she would have liked to take away, but that was impossible.  She wept bitterly to leave her poor bird behind, until the idea occurred to her that it might fall into the hands of Kit, who would keep and cherish it for her sake.  She was calmed and comforted by this thought, and went to rest with a lighter heart.

At length the day began to glimmer, when she arose and dressed herself for the journey, and with the old man, trod lightly down the stairs.  At last they reached the ground-floor, got the door open without noise, and passing into the street, stood still.

“Which way?” said the child.

The old man looked irresolutely and helplessly to the right and left, then at her, and shook his head.  It was plain that she was henceforth his guide and leader.  The child felt it, but had no doubts or misgivings, and putting her hand in his, led him gently away.

It was the beginning of a day in June; the deep blue sky unsullied by a cloud, and teeming with brilliant light.  The streets were as yet free of passengers, the houses and shops were closed, and the healthy air of morning fell like breath from angels on the sleeping town.

The old man and the child passed on through the glad silence, elate with hope and pleasure.  Every object was bright and fresh; nothing reminded them, otherwise than by contrast, of the monotony and restraint they had left behind.