trance. While we looked he turned slowly towards us, moved his
hands to and fro with a gesture of uncertainty, as though feeling
his way in the dark; and spoke with a slow dreamy utterance:

"I see the lad sitting in the entrance of the cavern, looking out
across the valley, as though expecting some one. He is pallid and
thin, and wears a dark-colored mantle--a large mantle--lined with
sable fur."

St. Aubyn sprang from his seat. "True!" he exclaimed. "It is the
mantle he was carrying on his arm when he slipped over the pass!
O, thank God for that; it may have saved his life!"

"The place in which I see your boy," continued the mountaineer,
"is fully three miles distant from the plateau on which we now stand.
But I do not know how to reach it. I cannot discern the track.
I am at fault!" He moved his hands impatiently to and fro, and
cried in tones which manifested the disappointment he felt: "I
can see no more! the vision passes from me. I can discover nothing
but confused shapes merged in ever-increasing darkness!"

We gathered round him in some dismay, and St. Aubyn urged the younger
Raoul to attempt an elucidation of the difficulty. But he too failed.
The scene in the cave appeared to him with perfect distinctness;
but when he strove to trace the path which should conduct us to it,
profound darkness obliterated the vision.

"It must be underground," he said, using the groping action we had
already observed on Theodor's part. "It is impossible to distinguish
anything, save a few vague outlines of rock. Now there is not a