ince she
could scarcely imagine any situation more dreadful than her present one.

As they moved slowly along, her attention was surprised by a thin
tapering flame, that appeared, by fits, at the point of the pike, which
Bertrand carried, resembling what she had observed on the lance of the
sentinel, the night Madame Montoni died, and which he had said was
an omen. The event immediately following it appeared to justify the
assertion, and a superstitious impression had remained on Emily's mind,
which the present appearance confirmed. She thought it was an omen of
her own fate, and watched it successively vanish and return, in gloomy
silence, which was at length interrupted by Bertrand.

'Let us light the torch,' said he, 'and get under shelter of the
woods;--a storm is coming on--look at my lance.'

He held it forth, with the flame tapering at its point.*

(*See the Abbe Berthelon on Electricity. [A. R.])

'Aye,' said Ugo, 'you are not one of those, that believe in omens: we
have left cowards at the castle, who would turn pale at such a sight.
I have often seen it before a thunder storm, it is an omen of that, and
one is coming now, sure enough. The clouds flash fast already.'

Emily was relieved by this conversation from some of the terrors of
superstition, but those of reason increased, as, waiting while Ugo
searched for a flint, to strike fire, she watched the pale lightning
gleam over the woods they were about to enter, and illumine the harsh
countenances of her companions. Ugo could not find a flint, and Bertrand
became impatient, for the thunder sounded hollowly at a distance, and
the lightning was more frequent. Sometimes, it revealed the nearer
recesses of the woods, or, displaying some opening in their summits,
illumined the ground beneath with partial splendour, the thick foliage
of the trees preserving the surrounding scene in deep shadow.

At length, Ugo found a flint, and the torch was lighted. The men then
dismounted, and, having assisted Emily, led the mules towards the woods,
that skirted the glen, on the left, over broken ground, frequently
interrupted with brush-wood and wild plants, which she was often obliged
to make a circuit to avoid.

She could not approach these woods, without experiencing keener sense of
her danger. Their deep silence, except when the wind swept among their
branches, and impenetrable glooms shewn partially by the sudden flash,
and then, by the red glare of the torch, wh