Suddenly she gave the cloak a pull, but the fastening did not give way as
she had thought it would.

"Is it because you are cold that you want it?" said Elizabeth, in her
gentle, innocent way, "I will give it to you. Take it."

Had not the holy ones in the legends given their garments to the poor?
Why should she not give her cloak?

In an instant it was unclasped and snatched away, and the woman was gone.
She did not even stay long enough to give thanks for the gift, and
something in her haste and roughness made Elizabeth wonder and gave her a
moment of tremor.

She made her way back to the place where the other woman and her children
had been sitting; the cold wind made her shiver, and the basket was very
heavy for her slender arm. Her strength seemed to be giving way.

As she turned the corner, a great, fierce gust of wind swept round it,
and caught her breath and made her stagger. She thought she was going to
fall; indeed, she would have fallen but that one of the tall men who were
passing put out his arm and caught her. He was a well dressed man, in a
heavy overcoat; he had gloves on. Elizabeth spoke in a faint tone. "I
thank you," she began, when the second man uttered a wild exclamation and
sprang forward.

"Elizabeth!" he said, "Elizabeth!"

Elizabeth looked up and uttered a cry herself. It was her Uncle Bertrand
who stood before her, and his companion, who had saved her from falling,