and consented to aid me with all her might—on one condition, only—that she might share my exile: otherwise, she was utterly inexorable, regarding it as perfect madness for me and Arthur to go alone. With touching generosity, she modestly offered to aid me with her little hoard of savings, hoping I would "excuse her for the liberty, but really if I would do her the favour to accept it as a loan, she should be very happy." Of course I could not think of such a thing;—but now, thank Heaven, I have gathered a little hoard of my own, and my preparations are so far advanced, that I am looking forward to a speedy emancipation. Only let the stormy severity of this winter weather be somewhat abated, and then, some morning Mr. Huntingdon will come down to a solitary breakfast-table, and perhaps be clamouring through the house for his invisible wife and child, when they are some fifty miles on their way to the western world—or it may be more, for we shall leave him hours before the dawn, and it is not
