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 up, recognised his own house, in the Horse-market, when, for the first time, it occurred to him that he had not asked the maiden where she lived; he collected himself therefore with effort, and said, "Lady—sweet, angelic creature—where is your abode?"

"Here, my dear Peregrine," she replied, lifting up her head; "here, in this house: I am your Alina; I live with you; but get the door open quickly."

"No—never!" cried Peregrine, in horror, and let her sink down.

"How!" exclaimed the stranger—"how! Peregrine, you would reject me? and yet know my dreadful fate,—and yet know that, child of misfortune as I am, I have no refuge, and must perish here miserably if you will not take me in as usual! But perhaps you wish that I should perish? Be it so then! Only carry me to the fountain, that my corse may not be found before your door. Ha!—the stone dolphins may, perchance, have more pity than you have. Woe is me!—woe is me!—The bitter cold!"

She sank down in a swoon; Peregrine was