the daughter's life. They paused at last, out of breath and
exhausted: the sounds at the distance were lulled and hushed. They
looked towards the direction of the home they had abandoned, expecting
to see the flames destined to consume it reddening the sky; but all
was dark,--or, rather, no light save the holy stars and the rising
moon offended the majestic heaven.

"They cannot harm the poor old woman; she hath no lore. On her gray
hairs has fallen not the curse of men's hate!" said Warner.

"Right, Father! when they found us flown, doubtless the cruel ones
dispersed. But they may search yet for thee. Lean on me, I am strong
and young. Another effort, and we gain the safe coverts of the
Chase."

While yet the last word hung on her lips, they saw, on the path they
had left, the burst of torch-light, and heard the mob hounding on
their track. But the thick copses, with their pale green just budding
into life, were at hand. On they fled. The deer started from amidst
the entangled fern, but stood and gazed at them without fear; the
playful hares in the green alleys ceased not their nightly sports at
the harmless footsteps; and when at last, in the dense thicket, they
sunk down on the mossy roots of a giant oak, the nightingales overhead
chanted as if in melancholy welcome. They were saved!

But in their home, fierce fires glared amidst the tossing torch-light;
the crowd, baffled by the strength of the door, scaled the wall, broke
through the lattice-work of the hall window, and streaming through
room after room, roared forth, "Death to the wizard!" Amidst the
sordid dresses of the men, the soiled and faded tinsel of the