Arthur took off his cloak, and folded it round her, and she offered no resistance. She was sinking into that passive state, which often succeeds too high-wrought emotion. "You are very kind," said she, "but _you_ will suffer." "No--I am accustomed to brave the elements. But if you think I suffer, let us hasten to a warmer region. Give me your hand." Firmly grasping it, he extinguished the lamp, and in total darkness they left the cell, groped through the long, narrow passage, down the winding stairs, at the foot of which was the jailer's room. Arthur was familiar with this gloomy dwelling, so often had he visited it on errands of mercy and compassion. It was not the first time he had been entrusted with the key of the cells, though he suspected that it would be the last. The keeper, only half awakened, received the key, locked his own door, and went back to his bed, muttering that "there were not many men to be trusted, but the young doctor was one." When Arthur and Mittie emerged from the dark prison-house into the clear, still moonlight, (for the moon had risen, and over the night had thrown a veil of silvery gauze,) Arthur's excited spirit subsided into peace, beneath its pale, celestial glory. Mittie thought of the fugitive, and shrunk from the beams that might betray his flight. The sudden barking of the watch-dog made her tremble. Even their own shadows on the white, frozen ground, she mistook for the avengers of crime, in the act of pursuit. "What shall we do?" said Arthur, when, having arrived at Mr. Gleason's door, they found it fastened. "I wish you could enter unobserved." Mittie's solitary habits made her departure easy, and her absence unsuspected, but she could not steal in through the bolts and locks that impeded her admission. "No matter," she cried, "leave me here--I will lie down by the threshold, and wait the morning. All places are alike to me." Louis, whose chamber was opposite to Mittie's, in the front part of the house, and who now had many a sleepless night, heard voices in the portico, and opening the window, demanded "who was there?" "Come down softly and open the door," said Arthur, "I wish to speak to you." Louis hastily descended, and unlocked the door. His astonishment, on seeing his sister with Arthur Hazleton, at that hour, when he supposed her in her own room, was so great that he held the door in his hand, without speaking or offering to admit them. "Let us in as noiselessly as possible," said Arthur. "Take her directly to her chamber, kindle a fire, give her a generous glass of Port wine, and question her not to-night. Let no servant be roused. Wait upon her yourself, and be silent on the morrow. Good-night." "It is too bright," whispered she, as Louis half carried her up stairs, stepping over the checker-work the moon made on the carpet. "What is too bright, Mittie?" "Nothing. Make haste--I am very cold."