heart; his lips pressed hers, and during the kiss that
followed, the heart of the latter bounded and throbbed,
as if it would have passed from her own into the bosom
of her companion.

Never was a kiss less premeditated, less unchaste.
Gratitude, not passion, had called it forth; and had
Madeline de Haldimar been near at the moment, the feeling
that had impelled the seeming infidelity to herself would
have been regarded as an additional claim on her affection.
On the whole, however, it was a most unfortunate and
ill-timed kiss, and, as is often the case under such
circumstances, led to the downfall of the woman. In the
vivacity of his embrace, Captain de Haldimar had drawn
his guide so far forward upon the log, that she lost her
balance, and fell with a heavy and reverberating crash
among the leaves and dried sticks that were strewed
thickly around.

Scarcely a second elapsed when the forest was alive with
human yells, that fell achingly on the ears of both; and
bounding warriors were heard on every hand, rapidly
dividing the dense underwood they encountered in their
pursuit.

Quick as thought the Indian had regained her feet. She
grasped the hand of her companion; and hurrying, though
not without caution, along the path, again stood on the
brow of the ravine through which they had previously
passed.