her. 'Clara, come, take care.' She obeyed, but trembling so much
that he was obliged to support her. Others would have risen in
alarm, but he silenced them by signs, and entreaties that no one
would frighten her grandmother. There was a large glass door
standing open under the Gothic window, and through it he led her out
upon a wide green lawn. She drew her breath in sobs, but could not
speak. Louis asked her to untie her bonnet, and touched the string,
which was merely a streamer. This brought a kind of laugh, but she
unfastened the bonnet herself, and the first use she made of her
breath was fiercely to exclaim--'How could you! Why did you not tell
them I never will--'

'Sit down,' said Louis, gently. 'Let me fetch some water.'

'No--no--let me get away from this place!' and she almost dragged him
along, as fresh cheers and peals of music broke out, till they had
entered a lonely walk in a sort of wilderness of shrubs. Still she
hurried on, till they came out on a quiet little garden, where the
tinkling of a little fountain was the only sound; the water looked
clear and fresh with the gold-fish darting in it, and the sun shone
calmly on the bright flowers and wavy ferns adorning the rockwork.

'What are you doing, Clara? You must rest here,' said he, drawing
her down on a rustic bench, intended to represent a crocodile.

'I can't rest here! I must go home! I'm going home to Jem!' she
exclaimed, obeying, however, because, though she could run, she could
not stand.

'Dear Clara,' he said, affectionately, 'it was much worse than I