as it happened, neither Roland's inclination nor fate was favourable
to his playing so insignificant a part in the undertaking. He had
remained in the place of concealment assigned him, tortured with
suspense, and racked by self-reproach, for more than an hour: until, his
impatience getting the better of his judgment, he resolved to creep
nigher the village, to ascertain, if possible, the state of affairs. He
had arrived within earshot of the pair, and without overhearing all, had
gathered enough of their conversation to convince him that Edith was at
last found, and that the blow was now to be struck for her deliverance.
His two associates separated before he could reach them; Ralph plunging
among the bushes that covered the hill, while Nathan, as before, stalked
boldly into the village. He called softly after the latter, to attract
his notice; but his voice was lost in the gusts sweeping along the hill;
and Nathan proceeded onwards, without heeding him. He hesitated a moment
whether to follow, or return to his station, where little Peter, more
obedient, or more prudent than himself, still lay, having resolutely
refused to stir at the soldier's invitation to accompany him; until
finally, surrendering his discretion to his anxiety, he resolved to
pursue after Nathan,--a measure of imprudence, if not of folly, which, at
a less exciting moment, no one would have been more ready to condemn than
himself. But the image of Edith in captivity, and perhaps of Braxley
standing by, the master of her fate, was impressed upon his heart, as if
pricked into it with daggers; and to remain longer at a distance, and in
inaction, was impossible. Imitating Nathan's mode of advance as well as
he could, guided by his dusky figure, and hoping soon to overtake him, he
pushed forward and was soon in the dreaded village.

CHAPTER XXX.

In the meanwhile, Edith sat in the tent abandoned to despair, her mind
not yet recovered from the stunning effect of her calamity, struggling
confusedly with images of blood and phantasms of fear, the dreary
recollections of the past mingling with the scarce less dreadful
anticipations of the future. Of the battle on the hill-side she
remembered nothing save the fall of her kinsman, shot down at her
feet,--all she had herself witnessed, and all she could believe; for
Telie Doe's assurances, contradicted in effect by her constant tears and
agitation, that he had been carried off to captivity like herself,