As I looked upon her I could now recognize her fully and plainly; and at that recognition the last vestige of my wild, superstitious feeling died out utterly, for she whom I held in my arms was no phantom, nor was she Nora. I had been in some way intentionally deceived, but all the time my own instinct had been true; for, now, when the Lady of the lee again lay in my arms, I recognized her, and I saw that she was no other than _Marion_. CHAPTER XXVIII. MY LADY OF THE ICE.--SNOW AND SLEET.--REAWAKENING.--A DESPERATE SITUATION.--SAVED A SECOND TIME.--SNATCHED FROM A WORSE FATE.--BORNE IN MY ARMS ONCE MORE.--THE OPEN DOOR. So there she lay before me--the Lady of the Ice, discovered, at last, and identified with Marion. And she lay there reclining on my arms as once before, and in the snow, with the pitiless blast beating upon her. And the first question that arose was, "What can I do?" Ay--that was the question. What could I do? I leave to the reader to try and imagine the unparalleled embarrassment of such a situation. For there was I, in an agony of eagerness 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.