hopes of renewing the communication betwixt
them. "Whoever thou art," he said, in a voice loud enough to be heard
by a waking person, but not so high as to disturb his sleeping
companion--"Whoever, or whatever thou art, thou hast shown some interest
in the fate of such a castaway as Julian Peveril, speak once more, I
conjure thee; and be your communication for good or evil, believe me, I
am equally prepared to abide the issue."

No answer of any kind was returned to this invocation; nor did the least
sound intimate the presence of the being to whom it was so solemnly
addressed.

"I speak in vain," said Julian; "and perhaps I am but invoking that
which is insensible of human feeling, or which takes a malign pleasure
in human suffering."

There was a gentle and half-broken sigh from a corner of the apartment,
which, answering to this exclamation, seemed to contradict the
imputation which it conveyed.

Julian, naturally courageous, and familiarised by this time to his
situation, raised himself in bed, and stretched out his arm, to repeat
his adjuration, when the voice, as if alarmed at his action and energy,
whispered, in a tone more hurried than that which it had hitherto used,
"Be still--move not--or I am mute for ever!"

"It is then a mortal being who is present with me," was the natural
inference of Julian, "and one who is probably afraid of being detected;
I have then some power over my visitor, though I must be cautious how I
use it.--If your intents are friendly," he proceeded, "there was never
a time in which I lacked friends more, or would be more grateful for
kindness. The fate of all who are dear to me is weighed in the balance,
and with worlds would I buy the tidings of their safety."

"I have said my power is limited," replied the voice. "_You_ I may be
able to preserve--the fate of your friends is beyond my control."

"Let me at least know it," said Julian; "and, be it as it may, I will
not shun to share it."

"For whom would you inquire?" said the soft, sweet voice, not without
a tremulousness of accent, as if the question was put with diffident
reluctance.

"My parents," said Julian, after a moment's hesitation; "how fare
they?--What will be their fate?"

"They fare as the fort under which the enemy has dug a deadly mine. The
work may have cost the labour of years, such were the impediments to the
engineers; but Time brings opportunity upon its wings."

"And what will be the event?" said Pever