have led to our discovery? Your father has
not yet, be assured, relinquished his pursuit of us--my passport would
have been examined again with severer scrutiny--something, no doubt,
would have led to the suspicion that the name I bear is assumed. We
should have been separated. So, angel mine, we are happy as we are--most
happy!"

It had now grown dark, and the fire was burned out; a candle to talk by
would have been certainly superfluous: so they retired early to their
sleeping apartment. Here they could continue their chat in the dark,
quite heedless of the heavy fall of snow that was encumbering their
windows.

CHAPTER II.

Next morning, at approach of dawn, Clara hastened up to run to the
stove, to awake the sparks in the ashes. Henry soon came to her
assistance, and they laughed like children, as, with all their efforts,
the flame would _not_ come. At last, with much puffing and blowing, the
shavings kindled, and slips of wood were most artistically laid on so as
to heat the little stove without any waste of the precious store. "You
see, Henry dear," said Clara, "there is hardly enough for to-morrow, and
then"----

"A fresh supply must be had," said her husband, in a tone as if this
matter of supply was the simplest thing in the world; whereas he well
knew, that whatever stock of money remained to them, must be reserved
for the still more essential article of food. After breakfast, he again
took up his journal. "How I long to come to that page which records how
you and I, dearest, ran away with one another."

"O Heaven!" cried Clara, "how strange, how unexpected as that eventful
moment! For some days my father had shown a certain ill-humour towards
me, and had spoken in a quite unusual manner. He had before expressed
his surprise at your frequent visits; now he did not name you, but
talked _at_ you, and spoke continually of young men who refused to know
their own position. If I was silent on these occasions he was angry; and
if I spoke it was still worse: he grew more and more bitter. One
morning, just as I was going out in the carriage to pay some visits, my
faithful maid ran down the steps after me, and, under pretence of
adjusting my dress, whispered into my ear that all was discovered--that
my desk had been broken open, and your letters found--and that, in a few
hours, I was to be sent off a prisoner to an aunt in a distant part of
the country. How sudden was my resolution! I had not ridden far before