stor, 'that I should judge you
were not yet man and wife, but only lovers. If you desire it, I will
pronounce the blessing of the church over you. I am fully authorized to
perform the ceremony, having received ordination from our right
reverend bishop, who now wears the crown of martyrdom before the throne
of the Lamb.'

'Have I your consent, my dearest?' asked Oswald, warmly pressing the
maiden's hand. 'We already have your mother's blessing.'

'Not now, dear Oswald,' said Faith, with mingled sadness and
resignation. 'I cannot consent to take that important step while yet so
deeply impressed with sorrow for the fate of my dearest relatives. Our
love must now wear the mourning dress in which it has been clad by
these unhappy times. It would be almost wicked to put on the myrtle
now; and the decisive _yes_, which should be spoken out of a joyful
heart, would be stifled by my sobs and tears, under the present
circumstances.'

'Your wish can alone decide the question,' said Oswald, tenderly,
impressing a chaste kiss upon her forehead.

'Maiden, it is evident you have chosen a worthy partner,' said the
pastor. 'And early has your betrothed learnt the lesson of self-denial,
the hardest in this life to be acquired.'

Delighted to hear from such reverend lips the praise of one so dear to
her, the maiden threw her arms about Oswald's neck and embraced him
with love and joy.

CHAPTER XIX.

'The morning is fine,' said Faith to Oswald after breakfast, as their
venerable host seated himself with his bible upon his knee; 'and the
valley here is so narrow and close that these huge rocks seem to press
upon my heart. Let us therefore walk out a short distance beyond their
confines.'

'Venture not too far, my children!' said the pastor, in a warning voice
without raising his eyes from his book. 'My old body is a true and
faithful weather-prophet, and tells me that we shall have a severe
storm to-day. These storms rage much more furiously here than in the
plains, and, when they come, every living creature finds it necessary
to seek a shelter.'

'We will soon return,' promised Faith, skipping forth by Oswald's side.

'Mark well the place of entrance to our retreat,' said the Hussite, who
opened the outer stone door for them; 'that you may be sure to find it
again. The passages among the rocks are very similar, and if by mistake
you enter a wrong one you may be compelled to wander about al