After a walk of about two miles, the young man turned into a narrow
and unfrequented road, and soon entered the cottage occupied by Isabella.
It was a fine starlight night, and the moon was just rising when they
got to their journey's end. As usual, Isabella met Henry with a smile,
and expressed her fears regarding his health.
Hours passed, and still old Mrs. Miller remained near the house,
determined to know who lived there. When she undertook
to ferret out anything, she bent her whole energies to it.
As Michael Angelo, who subjected all things to his pursuit
and the idea he had formed of it, painted the crucifixion
by the side of a writhing slave and would have broken up
the true cross for pencils, so Mrs. Miller would have entered
the sepulchre, if she could have done it, in search of an object
she wished to find.
The full moon had risen, and was pouring its beams upon
surrounding objects as Henry stepped from Isabella's door,
and looking at his watch, said,--
"I must go, dear; it is now half-past ten."
Had little Clotelle been awake, she too would have been at the door.
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