Lady of the Ice. I
did not recognize you before; but, when your face was pale, with
suffering and fear upon it, then you became the same one whom I have
never forgotten."

"_He_ did not send you, then?" said she again.

"He? No. I swear he didn't; but all is just as I have said. Besides, we
have quarrelled, and I have neither seen nor heard of him for two
days."

She said nothing in reply, but again buried her face in her hands, and
sat crouching on the door-step. The storm howled about us with
tremendous fury. All the houses in the street were dark, and the street
itself showed no living forms but ours. A lamp, not far off, threw a
feeble light upon us.

"Come," said I at last; "I have saved you once from death, and, I doubt
not, I have been sent by Fate to save you once again. If you stay here
any longer, you must perish. You must rouse yourself."

I spoke vehemently and quickly, and in the tone of one who would listen
to no refusal. I was roused now, at last, from all irresolution by the
very sight of her suffering. I saw that to remain here much longer
would be little else than death for her.

"Oh, what shall I do?" she moaned.

"Tell me of some place where I can take you."

"There is no place. How could I dare to go to any of my friends?"

"Why should you not?"

"I cannot--I cannot."

"You can easily make up some story for the occasion. Tell me the name
of some one, and I will take you."

"No," said she.

"Then," said I, "you must go home."

"Home! home!" she gasped.

"Yes," said I, firmly, "home. Home you must go, and nowhere else."

"I cannot."

"You must."

"I will not; I will die first."

"You shall not die!" I cried, passionately. "You shall not die while I
am near you. I have saved your life before, and I will not let it end
in this. No, you shall not die--I swear by all that's holy! I myself
will carry you home."

"I cannot," she murmured, feebly.

"You must," said I. "This is not a question of death--it's a question
of dishonor. Home is the only haven where you can find escape from
that, and to that home I will take you."

"Oh, my God!" she wailed; "how can I meet my father?"

She buried her face in her hands again, and sobbed convulsively.

"Do not be afraid," said I. "I will meet him, and explain all. Or say--
answer me this," I added, in fervid, vehement tones--"I can do more
than this. I will tell him it was all my doing. I will accept his
anger. I'll tell him I was ha