Alberta stole behind them, and not only closed the door upon them, but silently slipped the bolt. Then she went to the only other door of the room, which was at the opposite end, and she drew the key from the other side and locked it fast. Having thus secured the room, she went to the north windows. The green linen blinds were drawn down, and the outside shutters were closed. She stopped at a window at the extreme end of the row, and the most out of the range of vision of any one who might, at a later hour, force an entrance into the room, and she lifted the blind, but did not draw it up, and she hoisted the window and opened the shutters. It was dark as pitch outside, and snowing fast; it was a terrible night to take the road in. But what will not a self-willed girl, bent upon her own destruction, venture? She leaned far out of the window and peered into the darkness, but she could see nothing except the falling snow. Then she ventured to call softly: “Vittorio! Vittorio!” There was no response. After a minute she called again, but with no better success. She paused another minute, and then called for a third time: “Vittorio!” “I am here, my love—I am here!” answered a hushed and vehement voice below the window. “I have called you three times,” she said. “I must have been at the other end of my beat. I have been pacing the whole length of this building from one end to the other, and looking up to those windows—oh, how longingly!” “Is all clear below this?” “Yes, dear love.” “Then wait there. I will be with you in a moment,” she said, and she withdrew from the window. Her schoolmates, who had grown impatient at her long delay in hiding, were now clamoring for admittance at the closed door, which, however, they did not know was fastened. “Why don’t you ‘whoop’ and let us in? Haven’t you hid yourself yet?” inquired one and another. “No,” answered Alberta, going up to the door—“not quite yet; I shall in a minute. Don’t you be in such a hurry, and don’t come in until I whoop.” “Make haste, then,” exclaimed several of the girls in a breath; “it is cold out here.” “I will,” said Alberta. And she went to the peg where her own everyday bonnet and shawl hung, and she took them down and put them on. Next she turned off the gas, leaving the room dark. Then she went to the window, pushed it up as high as it would go, got upon the sill, letting the blind drop behind her to hide her means of exit, and took a clear leap down to the sidewalk below. It was a fall of about eight feet, and she came down with a severe shock but with whole bones. “My own! my own! are you hurt?” exclaimed her lover, in the extremity of anxiety, as he picked her up. “I—let me recover myself! No, I am not hurt,” answered Alberta, confusedly. “The carriage is round the corner. Let me lift you and bear you to it.” “No, I can walk very well now, if you will give me the support of your arm,” answered Miss Goldsborough.