n which offended pride
was clearly confessed.

"_I_ ask pardon," said the baronet hastily. "It was merely that I might
convey my respectful greetings to the worthy father that I asked the
question. Perhaps you will allow me to trespass so far upon you, and
say, that Sir Marmaduke Travers has been here."

"While Sir Marmaduke was speaking, the youth's eyes were fixed with a
steadfast gaze on the features of the young girl, of whose presence till
then he seemed unconscious. Fixed and earnest as his stare was,
there was nothing in it of rudeness, still less of insult. It was the
unequivocal expression of astonishment, the suddenly-awakened sense of
admiration in one, on whom, till that very instant, beauty had shed no
fascination. His eyes were bent upon her, as Sir Marmaduke thus finished
speaking, and the old man smiled as he saw the wonder-struck admiration
of the boy.

"You will please to say Sir Marmaduke Travers," repeated he once more,
to recall the scattered senses of the youth.

"And his daughter?" murmured the other, as he still continued to stare
at her.

"Yes, his daughter," replied Sir Marmaduke, smiling. "May I ask if there
be no shorter road back to 'the Lodge,' than that yonder? for I perceive
it is full two hours later than I suspected."

"None for those on horseback. The mountain path lies yonder, but even on
foot it is not without danger."

"Come, then, Sybella; let us lose no time. We must ride briskly, to
reach home by day-light. We are late enough already."

"Too late, if you ride not very fast," replied the youth. "The rain
has fallen heavily on the mountains this afternoon. See that waterfall
yonder. I crossed it dry-shod at day-break, and now, it is a cataract.
This river rises rapidly, and in a single night's rain I have seen the
valley all one lake."

"What are we to do then?" cried Miss Travers, eagerly, for now she felt
self-reproach at her refusal to take a groom along with them, and was
vexed with herself, as well as uneasy for her father.

"Keep the left of the valley till you reach the tall black rock they call
'the pulpit'--you know it, at least you must have seen it, as you came
along--then cross the stream, it will be fordable enough by that time,
and make the best of your way along under the cliffs, till you arrive
at the broken bridge--the two buttresses, I mean. Re-cross the stream
there, and gain the meadows, and in some hundred yards you are safe upon
the high road. Awa