as almost to block up the door, leaving a passage in and out, only towards the rear of the building; and, in case of sudden attack and seizure of this sole entrance, there were several gaps at the bottom of the wall, through one of which, in particular, it would be easy enough to effect a retreat.  At this place, the floor was entirely wanting, and the earth below washed into a gully communicating with the rocky ravine, of which it might be considered the head.

But the looks of the soldier did not dwell long upon the dreary spectacle of ruin; they were soon cast upon the countenance of Edith, concealed so long by darkness.  It was even wanner and paler than he feared to find it, and her eye shone with an unnatural lustre, as it met his own.  She extended her hands and placed them in his, gazed upon him piercingly, but without speaking, or indeed seeming able to utter a single word.

“Be of good heart,” he said, replying to the look of inquiry; “we are unfortunate, Edith, but we are safe.”

“Thank Heaven!” she exclaimed, but more wildly than fervently:  “I have been looking every moment to see you shot dead at my feet!  Would I had died, Roland, my brother, before I brought you to this fatal land—­But I distress you!  Well, I will not be frightened more.  But is not this an adventure for a woman that never before looked upon a cut finger without fainting?  Truly, Roland,—­’truly,’ as friend Nathan says,—­it is as ridiculous as frightful:  and then this cabin, where they killed so many poor women and children,—­is it not a ridiculous lodging place for Edith Forrester? a canopy of clouds, a couch of clay, with owls and snakes for my bed-fellows—­truly, truly, truly, it is very ridiculous!”

It seemed, for a moment, as if the maiden’s effort to exchange her melancholy and terror for a more joyous feeling, would have resulted in producing even greater agitation than before; but the soothing words of Roland, and the encouraging countenance maintained by Telie Doe, who seemed little affected by their forlorn situation, gradually tranquilised her mind, and enabled her the better to preserve the air of levity and mirthfulness, which she so vainly attempted at first to assume.  This moment of calm Roland took advantage of to apprise her of the necessity of recruiting her spirits with a few hours’ asleep; for which purpose he began to look about him for some suitable place in which to strew her a bed of fern and leaves.

“Why, here is one strewn for me already,” she cried, with an affected laugh, pointing to a corner, in which lay a mass of leaves so green and fresh that they looked as if plucked but a day or two before:  “truly, Nathan has not invited me to his hiding-place to lodge me meanly (Heaven forgive me for laughing at the poor man; for we owe him our lives!) nay, nor to send me supperless to bed.  See!” she added, pointing to a small brazen kettle, which her quick eye detected among the leaves, and which was soon followed by a second that Emperor stirred up from its concealment, and both of them, as was soon perceived, still retaining the odour of a recent savoury stew:  “Look well, Emperor:  where the kitchen is, the larder cannot be far distant.  I warrant we shall find that Nathan has provided us a good supper.”