“I will! I will, my poor child!” she exclaimed, flying back to him, kindly stooping over him, and, with some difficulty, assisting him to rise; for he was so stiffened it seemed scarcely possible to unbend his knees: nor did there appear to be one spark of vital heat remaining in the poor little creature! She drew a part of her warm fur mantle close over him, and endeavoured to soothe him and give him confidence in her protection.
“And will you stay here with me, then?” he whispered softly.
“I will take you to a much more comfortable place,” she replied, “where there is a good fire, and a nice dinner for Edmund.”
“And are you sure she won’t find me there?” he said, still whispering.
“She shall never hurt you, while you are with me,” the lady replied, “whoever she may be.”
“Then I will go!” said Edmund; and he lifted his head and tried to smile through his tears. The lady, still sharing with him her warm cloak, now led him by the hand, while he held hers fast in both of his, and walked, with short uneven steps, so close to her, that she was every moment in danger of treading on his little bare feet; and thus did they arrive at Lodore House, just as the first roll of the thunder resounded along the desolate valley they had so lately quitted.