s of night no longer obscured the silent depths of the
American forest--a silence in which there is something awful when the
sun in its zenith sends forth burning rays like blades of crimson fire,
when the flower of the lliana closes its chalice, when the stems of the
grass drop languidly downwards, as though in search of nourishment, and
the whole face of nature, silent and inanimate, appears buried in sleep.
The distant roar of the cataract was the only sound which at this hour
broke the stillness of the forest.

The travellers unsaddled, and having removed their horses' bridles,
fastened them at some distance off. As they had travelled all night to
escape the heat of the sun, they determined to take their siesta under
the shade of the trees.

Gayferos was the first who fell asleep. His affection for Fabian was
not disturbed by any fears for the future. Pepe was not long in
following his example. The Canadian only and Fabian did not close their
eyes.

"You are not sleeping, Fabian," said Bois-Rose, in a low voice.

"No, nor you. Why do you not take some rest, like our companions?"

"One cannot sleep, Fabian, in a spot consecrated by so many sacred
memories," replied the old hunter. "This place is rendered holy to me.
Was it not here that, by the intervention of a miracle, I again found
you in the heart of this forest, after having lost you upon the wide
ocean? I should be ungrateful to the Almighty if I could forget this--
even to obtain the rest which He has appointed for us."

"I think as you do, my father, and listen to your words," replied the
young Count.

"Thanks, Fabian; thanks also to that God who ordained that I should find
you with a heart so noble and so loving. See! here are still the
remains of the fire near which I sat; here are the brands, still black,
though they have been washed by the rain of an entire season. Here is
the tree against which I leant on the happiest evening of my life, since
it restored you to me; for now that I can again call you my son, each
day of my existence has been fraught with happiness, until I learnt what
I should have understood, that my affection for you was not that to
which the young heart aspires."

"Why so frequently allude to this subject, my father?" said Fabian, with
that gentle submission which is more cutting than the bitterest
reproach.

"As you will. Let us not again allude to that which may pain you; we
shall speak of it after the trial to w