her last delirium she fancied herself back in the hut with her children crouching by her side.

As soon as it was light next morning we ate a hasty meal, and then prepared to continue our journey. It was a white world that we looked upon when we opened the door. Fortunately, snow was no longer falling, but it had been doing so all night, and every sign of the path by which we had approached the hut had entirely disappeared. A consultation had taken place earlier between the innkeeper and the smugglers, the result of which was an offer on their part to assist in the work of conducting us to the frontier, which, needless to say, was only too gladly accepted. Accordingly, as soon as day was sufficiently advanced, we bade the hut good-bye and set out on the last stage of our momentous journey. A strong breeze was still blowing across the snow, and, as we were soon to discover, it cut like a knife. When we had decided upon the route, the little man went on ahead, in order, so he explained, to spy out the country, and to make sure that we did not fall into a trap. As on the previous afternoon, the big innkeeper carried me, and one of the smugglers did the same at intervals for Max, while the other helped my mother and her woman whenever the path became more difficult than usual. It was perhaps as well that we had their assistance, for, as we soon found, the road we were following, if road it can be called, was far from being an easy one. For the first few miles it lay along the mountain side, then by a long and gradual descent to the valley below. For the women of our party it proved even more trying than that of the previous day, but, with the assistance of the guides, it was in the end safely accomplished, and we stood upon the plain, only a matter of ten or a dozen miles from safety. Even that short distance, however, contained a sufficiency of dangers. On one occasion we were within an ace of stumbling upon a camp of gipsies, on another we discovered that we were being followed by three men, whose intentions could scarcely have been conducive to the end we had in view. It was within half a mile of the Border, however, and just when we were beginning to deem ourselves safe, that we received the greatest shock. We had left the fields behind us and had entered a small wood, when the little man, who, as usual, was leading the way, suddenly stopped, and held up his hand to the others not to advance. Then he crept forward to discover, if possible, of what the danger consisted. He was absent for upwards of five minutes, and when he returned it was with a solemn face.

"Soldiers!" he whispered; "they are resting on the far side of the wood."

"There are at least a dozen of them," he replied in answer to a question of my father's. "They are eating a meal. They have not unsaddled, so that they will go on when they have rested."

Comforting as this last assurance was, we dared not place too much reliance on it. If the men were really searching for us, as we felt sure they were, it was more than likely that they would make an examination of the wood before leaving it. In that case we could scarcely fail to be captured. My father pointed this out to the innkeeper, who he still regarded as the leader of the party.

"We must hope for the best, your Majesty," that stalwart individual replied. "They have not caught us yet."

I can recall the whole scene now—the white trees, the snow-covered ground, and the anxious faces of our party, as we clustered together in the most sheltered spot we could find. While we were deliberating, snow once more began to fall in heavy flakes. It was the only touch that was wanting to complete our misery, and I heard my mother give a heavy sigh as if her endurance were giving way under the strain placed upon it.

"Go back again," said my father to the little man, "and watch them closely. As soon as they have finished their meal and you are in a position to divine their intentions, return and tell us, in order that we may know how to act."

The man slipped away in the same noiseless fashion as before, and once more we settled ourselves down to wait. The snow was falling thicker and faster every minute, and before the man had been absent ten minutes his footmarks were completely hidden. Of all the trials to which we were subjected during those three terrible days, I fancy that time of waiting was the worst. We were cold, tired, hungry, and in immediate danger. Small wonder, therefore, that everything seemed hopeless to us. Years afterwards, when I spoke of it to my mother, she confessed that, at the time, she did not expect to cross the Border alive. Hitherto, she had borne up as bravely as any woman could do; now, however, her fortitude gave way. To me it was all one long bewilderment. Accustomed as I was to be treated as a king's son, used to all the luxuries that rank and wealth could bestow, I could only imperfectly realise the change in our position. The guard turned out and saluted me when I entered the palace gates, my name was even associated with one of the crack regiments—Prince Paul's Own Hussars. How was it then, I asked myself, that the self-same troops were engaged in hunting instead of protecting us? It was a riddle I could not answer, try how I would, and my mother's explanation, that it was because they hated her, served to intensify rather than to dispel my bewilderment. I was about to interrogate Max, on whose wisdom I was accustomed to rely, on the subject, when we were suddenly called to action. Running as fast as his short legs could carry him, the little man burst upon our group with the alarming intelligence that the soldiers were about to search the wood. Though we had been expecting it, and were even waiting for it, the news came upon us like a thunder clap.

"What can we do to escape them?" cried my mother, wringing her hands in an agony of terror. Then turning to my father she continued: "Whatever happens they must not take the children. Save them at any hazard."

Even in that moment of danger she gave no thought to herself. It will always remain my firm conviction that she would have yielded up her own life joyfully, if by so doing she could have been sure of saving ours.

"There is nothing for it but for us to hide in the trees and take our chance," began my father, for once coming forward with a suggestion. "If we are perfectly quiet and the snow covers our tracks, it is just possible that they may not become aware of our presence."

In order that you may understand the value of the idea, it should be explained that the trees of which the wood was composed were a species of pine—I cannot recall their botanical name—with long, low branches that stretched out and touched the ground on every side. It was within the bounds of possibility that if we scrambled in among the snow-laden boughs and crouched down, our presence might not be observed, but it was a very slender chance upon which to trust our lives. However, within a few seconds of the man's sounding the alarm, we were all stowed away out of sight. I scrambled into a tree with my mother and Max; my father, Gabriel, and my mother's woman were hidden in another; while the remainder of the party distributed themselves as best they could. Then followed another interval of suspense, during which we expected to hear every moment the tramp of the soldiers' chargers on the snow, and to find a lance come driving into the tree to turn us out. With anxious eyes we watched the tell-tale footmarks on the ground, knowing that upon them our lives depended. Heaven be thanked, however, the snow was falling fast, and every second's delay meant a greater chance of safety. A quarter of an hour went by and still the troopers did not come. The delay was difficult to account for. Had the man made a mistake when he had said that he had seen them preparing to search the wood? I had turned my face up to my mother's and was about to address a remark to her on the subject, when a look of terror flashed into her face, and she had clapped her hand upon my mouth to prevent me from speaking. It was