very far astray in his calculation. The short
remarks that were exchanged between him and Ethel, and afterward
between him and the men, were followed by a profound silence. Ethel
sat by the side of the priest, with her head bent forward and her eyes
closed as though she were asleep; yet sleep was farther from her than
ever it had been, and the thrilling events of the night afforded
sufficient material to keep her awake for many a long hour yet to
come. Her mind was now filled with a thousand conflicting and most
exciting fancies, in the midst of which she might again have sunk into
despair had she not been sustained by the assurance of the priest.

Sitting near Ethel, the priest for some time looked fixedly ahead of
him as though he were contemplating the solemn midnight scene, or
meditating upon the beauties of nature. In truth, the scene around was
one which was deserving even of the close attention which the priest
appeared to give. Immediately before him lay the lake, its shore not
far beneath, and almost at their feet. Around it arose the wooded
hills, whose dark forms, darker from the gloom of night, threw
profound shadows over the opposite shores. Near by the shore extended
on either side. On the right there were fires, now burning low, yet
occasionally sending forth flashes; on the left, and at some distance,
might be seen the dusky outline of the old stone house. Behind them
was the forest, vast, gloomy, clothed in impenetrable shade, in which
lay their only hope of safety, yet where even now there lurked the
watchful guards of the brigands. It was close behind them. Once in its
shelter, and they might gain freedom; yet between them and it was an
impassable barrier of enemies, and there also lay a still more
impassable barrier in the grave where Hawbury lay. To fly, even if
they could fly, would be to give him up to death; yet to remain, as
they must remain, would be to doom him to death none the less, and
themselves too.

Seated there, with his eyes directed toward the water, the priest saw
nothing of the scene before him; his eyes were fixed on vacancy; his
thoughts were endeavoring to grapple with the situation and master it.
Yet so complicated was that situation, and so perplexing the dilemma
in which he found himself--a dilemma where death perched upon either
horn--that the good priest found his faculties becoming gradually more
and more unable to deal with the difficulty, and he felt himself once
more