e cavern?" as if stifled, her eyes opening wide. "They--they are
buried alive?"

"I doubt if any lived to know," I answered soberly. "'T is likely
those within were crushed to death."

She dropped her face into her hands, sobbing hysterically. Unable to
speak, I bowed my head until it touched her shoulder. The crippled
priest crept toward us, forgetful of his own pain in the call of duty.

"Daughter," he said tenderly, stroking her brown hair with his slender
fingers, "to live or die is as Christ wills. The Lord gave, the Lord
hath taken away; blessed be the name of the Lord. Be of good comfort,
remembering these words of promise, 'Lo! I am with you alway, even
unto the end of the world.'"

She looked up through the mist of her tears, first into his face, then
into mine.

"I have passed through much," she confessed simply, "yet 'tis not the
spirit but the body which has become weakened. Forgive me, both of
you."

"Brave heart!" I echoed, caring nothing for the presence of the father.
"No woman ever upbore grievous burden better. If we rest first, you
will regain courage to go on."

Both her hands were resting trustfully in my own.

"With you," she acknowledged softly. "In all confidence with you."

We sat there until the coming of dawn, speaking only seldom, our very
thoughts holding us silent. Occasionally I could feel Eloise's hand
touch mine as if she sought thus to be reassured of my presence, and I
could distinguish an inarticulate murmur from the priest's lips, as if
he continually counted his beads in prayer. The glare of lightning
gradually ceased, the storm passing away to the westward with distant
reverberations. Yet clouds overcast the skies, leaving the early
morning hours dark and cheerless. With the first faint glow of day
lighting the pathway, I stood up, dizzy at viewing the awful abyss
below our narrow shelf. We could perceive now more plainly the
terrific havoc wrought above, but our eyes turned away from it in
horror. We must linger there no longer, but press forward with
whatever of courage remained.

"I must ask you to attempt to walk alone, Eloise," I said regretfully,
"as I must bear the _pere_, whose limbs are crippled."

Her startled eyes were filled with womanly sympathy.

"Crippled? Was it done last night in the storm?"

"No, a month ago; he was tortured at the stake in the village below.
Ever since then he has been held prisoner for sacrifice."

"Do not worr