“That was not what I meant —­”

“I am safe,” he said.

He gently seated her; and then going off to Clam at the other side of the room he bade her fetch her mistress’s bonnet and shawl.  He himself put them on, and taking her arm in his, they went forth of the house.

CHAPTER IX.

The One remains, the many change and pass;
Heaven’s light forever shines, Earth’s shadows flee;
Life, like a dome of many-coloured glass
Stains the clear radiance of Eternity,
Until Death shiver it to atoms. 
SHELLEY.

The dawn of the summer morning was just flushing up over the city, when Winthrop and his trembling companion came out of the house.  The flush came up upon a fair blue sky, into which little curls of smoke were here and there stealing; and a fresh air in the streets as yet held place of the sun’s hot breath.  One person felt the refreshment of it, as he descended the steps of the house and began a rather swift walk up the Parade.  But those were very trembling feet that he had to guide during that early walk; though his charge was perfectly quiet.  She did not weep at all; she did not speak, nor question any of his movements.  Neither did he speak.  He kept a steady and swift course till they reached Mr. Inchbald’s house in Little South Street, and then only paused to open the door.  He led Elizabeth up-stairs to his own room, and there and not before took her hand from his arm and placed her on a chair.  Himself quietly went round the room, opening the windows and altering the disposition of one or two things.  Then he came back to her where she sat like a statue, and in kind fashion again took one of her hands.

“I will see that you are waited upon,” he said gently; “and I will send Clam to you by and by for your orders.  Will you stay here for a little while? —­ and then I will take care of you.”

How she wished his words meant more than she knew they did.  She bowed her head, thinking so.

“Can I give you anything?”

She managed to say a smothered ‘no,’ and he went; first pulling out of his pocket his little bible which he laid upon the table.

Was that by way of answering his own question?  It might be, or he might not have wanted it in his pocket.  Whether or no, Elizabeth seized it and drew it towards her, and as if it had contained the secret charm and panacea for all her troubles, she laid her hands and her head upon it, and poured out there her new and her old sorrows; wishing even then that Winthrop could have given her the foundation of strength on which his own strong spirit rested.

After a long while, or what seemed such, she heard the door softly open and some one come in.  The slow careful step was none that she knew, and Elizabeth did not look up till it had gone out and the door had closed again.  It was Mrs. Nettley, and Mrs. Nettley had softly left on the table a waiter of breakfast.  Elizabeth looked at it, and laid her head down again.