was much nearer than
before, and, while they rejoiced in the hope of soon reaching a place
of repose, a light was seen to glimmer at a distance. It appeared at a
height considerably above the level of their path, and was lost and seen
again, as if the waving branches of trees sometimes excluded and then
admitted its rays. The guides hallooed with all their strength, but the
sound of no human voice was heard in return, and, at length, as a more
effectual means of making themselves known, they fired a pistol. But,
while they listened in anxious expectation, the noise of the explosion
was alone heard, echoing among the rocks, and it gradually sunk into
silence, which no friendly hint of man disturbed. The light, however,
that had been seen before, now became plainer, and, soon after, voices
were heard indistinctly on the wind; but, upon the guides repeating the
call, the voices suddenly ceased, and the light disappeared.

The Lady Blanche was now almost sinking beneath the pressure of anxiety,
fatigue and apprehension, and the united efforts of the Count and St.
Foix could scarcely support her spirits. As they continued to advance,
an object was perceived on a point of rock above, which, the strong rays
of the moon then falling on it, appeared to be a watch-tower. The Count,
from its situation and some other circumstances, had little doubt, that
it was such, and believing, that the light had proceeded from thence, he
endeavoured to re-animate his daughter's spirits by the near prospect
of shelter and repose, which, however rude the accommodation, a ruined
watch-tower might afford.

'Numerous watch-towers have been erected among the Pyrenees,' said the
Count, anxious only to call Blanche's attention from the subject of her
fears; 'and the method, by which they give intelligence of the approach
of the enemy, is, you know, by fires, kindled on the summits of these
edifices. Signals have thus, sometimes, been communicated from post to
post, along a frontier line of several hundred miles in length. Then,
as occasion may require, the lurking armies emerge from their fortresses
and the forests, and march forth, to defend, perhaps, the entrance of
some grand pass, where, planting themselves on the heights, they assail
their astonished enemies, who wind along the glen below, with fragments
of the shattered cliff, and pour death and defeat upon them. The ancient
forts, and watch-towers, overlooking the grand passes of the Pyrenees,