"No," she answered; "I am warmly clad; but the poor Queen!--I dread to think of such a journey for her. Happy it is, indeed, that all the royal children were sent away before!"
"Happy indeed!" repeated her companion; "for their presence would have added terribly to the sufferings and fears of such a time as this. The darkness of the night, however, like many another gloomy thing, may not be so evil as it seems. It will conceal their flight; for I much fear that Maximilian of Bavaria would hold himself justified in seizing and keeping as prisoners both King and Queen, notwithstanding the armistice, if he discovered they had left Prague."
"He, surely, never would be so base!" cried Agnes, warmly.
"I know not," replied her lover; "policy is a base thing; and there never was an act so foul that some smooth excuse could not be found for its commission. He has been brought up, too, in a school where plausible pretexts for evil deeds is one part of the training; and to hold Frederic in captivity, would be too great a temptation for a Jesuitical spirit to resist, I fear."
"Then I will thank the darkness," answered his fair companion, "if it be as black as that of Egypt."
"It may sorely impede us ourselves," replied Algernon Grey. "Do you remember, Agnes, the last time that we wandered together through the greater part of the night? I never thought it would be our fate to do so again. But what a different evening was that!--preceded, it is true, by dangers and sorrows, but followed by many brighter days. Oh, may this be so too!"
"God grant it!" cried Agnes. "I recollect it well--can I ever forget it? Oh, no; it is one of those things which, painted on memory--like the frescoes of the Italian artists, in colours that mingle with the very structure of that which bears them,--can never perish but with memory itself! To me that day seems like the beginning of life--of a new life, it certainly was; for what varied scenes--what spirit-changing events, have I not gone through since then! How different has been every aspect of my fate! how altered all my thoughts and feelings, my hopes, and even my fears!"
"I, too, shall remember it for ever," answered Algernon Grey; "though my fate has not undergone such changes. On has it gone in the same course, tending, I trust, to happiness, but by a thorny path. Men have fewer epochs in their lives than women, Agnes--at least, in ordinary circumstances. They pass gradually from state to state; but still, for those who feel--though the current of external things may not be subject to such changes--yet, in the world of the heart, they find moments, too, marked out indelibly in the history of life. That night was one of them for me. Let us ride on somewhat faster, and I will tell you, Agnes, as much as will interest you of my past existence. You must know it some time. Who can tell when opportunity may serve again?"
"Oh! not to-night, not to-night," answered Agnes, shrinking from new emotions on a day which had been so full of agitation. "I may be very weak, my friend; but I have already undergone so much within twelve hours that, if you would have me keep my courage up for other dangers which may be still before us, you will not tell me aught that can move me more just now. And how can I," she added, feeling that she was showing the feelings of her heart more clearly than woman ever likes to display them; "how can I hear anything, affecting sadly one who has saved, befriended, comforted, supported me, without being deeply moved? Another day, Algernon, when we have calmer thoughts."
"Well, be it so," replied her lover; "I only sought to speak of matters not very bright, lest Agnes Herbert should think, hereafter, I had willingly concealed aught from her that she had a right to know."