should this be? What evil might not happen in the meantime? Might not her mother take advantage of Adrian’s absence to urge her beyond her sufferance, perhaps to entrap her? I resolved, let what would befall, to see and converse with her the following day. This determination soothed me. Tomorrow, loveliest and best, hope and joy of my life, tomorrow I will see thee—Fool, to dream of a moment’s delay!
I went to rest. At past midnight I was awaked by a violent knocking. It was now deep winter; it had snowed, and was still snowing; the wind whistled in the leafless trees, despoiling them of the white flakes as they fell; its drear moaning, and the continued knocking, mingled wildly with my dreams—at length I was wide awake; hastily dressing myself, I hurried to discover the cause of this disturbance, and to open my door to the unexpected visitor. Pale as the snow that showered about her, with clasped hands, Idris stood before me. “Save me!” she exclaimed, and would have sunk to the ground had I not supported her. In a moment however she revived, and, with energy, almost with violence, entreated me to saddle horses, to take her away, away to London—to her brother—at least to save her. I had no horses—she wrung her hands. “What can I do?” she cried, “I am lost—we are both forever lost! But come—come with me, Lionel; here I must not stay—we can get a chaise at the nearest post-house; yet perhaps we have time! come, O come with me to save and protect me!”
When I heard her piteous demands, while with disordered dress, dishevelled hair, and aghast looks, she wrung her hands—the idea shot across me is she also mad?—“Sweet one,” and I folded her to my heart, “better repose than wander further;—rest—my beloved, I will make a fire—you are chill.”
“Rest!” she cried, “repose! you rave, Lionel! If you delay we are lost; come, I pray you, unless you would cast me off forever.”