most astonishment. "Clara! why, what in the name of Heaven brings you out, child, at this hour of the night?"
"Oh! don't ask me, father," returned Clara, gasping for breath; "that is, I will tell you presently. But take me away; for the love of the blessed Virgin, save me from these men!"
"Come here, my child," said the Father, drawing her arm within his own, and walking away with her; "let us lave these people. And now," continued he, when they were already at some distance from the crowd, "you must tell me, child, what brings ye here?"
This question, though it was a very natural one for the friar to ask, was beyond Clara's power to answer. In fact, she trembled so dreadfully that she could scarcely stand; and when she attempted to speak, her teeth chattered in her head so violently, that she could not articulate a syllable. "Poor thing," muttered the compassionate priest, after waiting a few minutes in vain for an answer, "she'll be better presently."
