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"Who is there?" Little Red Riding-Hood was frightened at first, on hearing the Wolf's gruff voice, but thinking that her grandmother had a cold, she answered,—,

Away went Johnny Blossom to Jeremias the wood-cutter.,

She now perceived that the key of the closet was stained with blood; she wiped it two or three times, but the blood would not come off. In vain she washed it, and even scrubbed it with sand and free-stone, the stain was still there, for the key was an enchanted one, and there were no means of cleaning it completely; when the blood was washed off one side, it came back on the other.,

Johnny Blossom sat as still as a stone for about two minutes; but then they drove past a great linden tree and he absolutely had to stand up to see how near the top of the tree he could reach with his fishpole.

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Uncle Isaac roused up. “No, no, my boy! Let go the lamp! Let go instantly!”,

Johnny prevailed; poor little Katrina agreed that she would come.,

Another wave came—a stronger one—and dashed even higher. He would be safer, perhaps, if he lay on his stomach and stuck his arms through the big ring that they fastened the ship’s ropes to.,

While she was lamenting with madame her unhappy fate, she was summoned once more to attend the Abate. At this moment her spirits entirely forsook her; the crisis of her fate seemed arrived; for she did not doubt that the Abate intended to surrender her to the marquis, with whom she supposed he had negotiated the terms of accommodation. It was some time before she could recover composure sufficient to obey the summons; and when she did, every step that bore her towards the Abate's room increased her dread. She paused a moment at the door, 'ere she had courage to open it; the idea of her father's immediate resentment arose to her mind, and she was upon the point of retreating to her chamber, when a sudden step within, near the door, destroyed her hesitation, and she entered the closet. The marquis was not there, and her spirits revived. The flush of triumph was diffused over the features of the Abate, though a shade of unappeased resentment yet remained visible. 'Daughter,' said he, 'the intelligence we have to communicate may rejoice you. Your safety now depends solely on yourself. I give your fate into your own hands, and its issue be upon your head.' He paused, and she was suspended in wondering expectation of the coming sentence. 'I here solemnly assure you of my protection, but it is upon one condition only—that you renounce the world, and dedicate your days to God.' Julia listened with a mixture of grief and astonishment. 'Without this concession on your part, I possess not the power, had I even the inclination, to protect you. If you assume the veil, you are safe within the pale of the church from temporal violence. If you neglect or refuse to do this, the marquis may apply to a power from whom I have no appeal, and I shall be compelled at last to resign you.