We arrived at our home.  I assisted her to dismount, I carried her up stairs, and gave her into Clara’s care, that her wet garments might be changed.  Briefly I assured Adrian of her safety, and requested that we might be left to repose.  As the miser, who with trembling caution visits his treasure to count it again and again, so I numbered each moment, and grudged every one that was not spent with Idris.  I returned swiftly to the chamber where the life of my life reposed; before I entered the room I paused for a few seconds; for a few seconds I tried to examine my state; sickness and shuddering ever and anon came over me; my head was heavy, my chest oppressed, my legs bent under me; but I threw off resolutely the swift growing symptoms of my disorder, and met Idris with placid and even joyous looks.  She was lying on a couch; carefully fastening the door to prevent all intrusion; I sat by her, we embraced, and our lips met in a kiss long drawn and breathless—­would that moment had been my last!

Maternal feeling now awoke in my poor girl’s bosom, and she asked:  “And Alfred?”

“Idris,” I replied, “we are spared to each other, we are together; do not let any other idea intrude.  I am happy; even on this fatal night, I declare myself happy, beyond all name, all thought—­what would you more, sweet one?”

Idris understood me:  she bowed her head on my shoulder and wept.  “Why,” she again asked, “do you tremble, Lionel, what shakes you thus?”

“Well may I be shaken,” I replied, “happy as I am.  Our child is dead, and the present hour is dark and ominous.  Well may I tremble! but, I am happy, mine own Idris, most happy.”

“I understand thee, my kind love,” said Idris, “thus—­pale as thou art with sorrow at our loss; trembling and aghast, though wouldest assuage my grief by thy dear assurances.  I am not happy,” (and the tears flashed and fell from under her down-cast lids), “for we are inmates of a miserable prison, and there is no joy for us; but the true love I bear you will render this and every other loss endurable.”

“We have been happy together, at least,” I said; “no future misery can deprive us of the past.  We have been true to each other for years, ever since my sweet princess-love came through the snow to the lowly cottage of the poverty-striken heir of the ruined Verney.  Even now, that eternity is before us, we take hope only from the presence of each other.  Idris, do you think, that when we die, we shall be divided?”

“Die! when we die! what mean you?  What secret lies hid from me in those dreadful words?”

“Must we not all die, dearest?” I asked with a sad smile.

“Gracious God! are you ill, Lionel, that you speak of death?  My only friend, heart of my heart, speak!”