s to save
her--to do something--and yet it was simply impossible to think of any
one place to which I could take her.

Could I take her into Colonel Berton's? That was my first impulse. The
lights from his windows were flashing brightly out into the gloom close
beside us. But how could I take her there? With what story? Or if I
trumped up some story--which I easily could do--would she not betray
herself by her own incoherencies as she recovered from her faint? No,
not Colonel Berton's. Where, then? Could I take her anywhere? To an
hotel? No. To any friends? Certainly not. To her own home?--But she had
fled, and it was locked against her. Where--where could I take her?

For I had to do something. I could not let her lie here--she would
perish. I had to take her somewhere, and yet save her from that ruin
and shame to which her rashness and Jack's perfidy had exposed her. Too
plain it all seemed now. Jack had urged her to fly--beyond a doubt--she
had consented, and he had not come for her.

I raised her up in my arms, and carried her on. Once before I had thus
carried her in my arms--thus, as I saved her from death; and now, as I
thus bore her, I felt that I was trying to save her from a fate far
worse--from scandal, from evil speaking--from a dishonored name--from a
father's curse. And could I but save her from this--could I but bear
her a second time from this darker fate back to light, and life, and
safety; then I felt assured that my Lady of the Ice could not so soon
forget this second service.

I raised her up and carried her thus I knew not where. There was not a
soul in the streets. The lamps gave but a feeble light in the wild
storm. The beating of the sleet and the howling of the tempest
increased at every step. My lady was senseless in my arms. I did not
know where I was going, nor where I could go; but breasted the storm,
and shielded my burden from it as well as I could; and so toiled on, in
utter bewilderment and desperation.

Now I beg leave to ask the reader if this situation of mine was not as
embarrassing a one as any that he ever heard of. For I thus found
forced upon me the safety, the honor, and the life of the very Lady of
the Ice for whom I had already risked my life--whose life I had already
saved; and about whom I had been raving ever since. But now that she
had thus been thrown upon me, with her life, and her honor, it was an
utterly impossible thing to see how I could extricate her from this