ed part of the road
between the village and the mill.

'This will do,' said she; and we crept under the space, and climbing a
little way up the rough stonework, we seated ourselves on a projecting
ledge, and crouched in the deep damp shadow. Amante sat a little above
me, and made me lay my head on her lap. Then she fed me, and took some
food herself; and opening out her great dark cloak, she covered up
every light-coloured speck about us; and thus we sat, shivering and
shuddering, yet feeling a kind of rest through it all, simply from the
fact that motion was no longer imperative, and that during the daylight
our only chance of safety was to be still. But the damp shadow in which
we were sitting was blighting, from the circumstance of the sunlight
never penetrating there; and I dreaded lest, before night and the time
for exertion again came on, I should feel illness creeping all over me.
To add to our discomfort, it had rained the whole day long, and the
stream, fed by a thousand little mountain brooklets, began to swell
into a torrent, rushing over the stones with a perpetual and dizzying
noise.

Every now and then I was wakened from the painful doze into which I
continually fell, by a sound of horses' feet over our head: sometimes
lumbering heavily as if dragging a burden, sometimes rattling and
galloping; and with the sharper cry of men's voices coming cutting
through the roar of the waters. At length, day fell. We had to drop
into the stream, which came above our knees as we waded to the bank.
There we stood, stiff and shivering. Even Amante's courage seemed to
fail.

'We must pass this night in shelter, somehow,' said she. For indeed the
rain was coming down pitilessly. I said nothing. I thought that surely
the end must be death in some shape; and I only hoped that to death
might not be added the terror of the cruelty of men. In a minute or so
she had resolved on her course of action. We went up the stream to the
mill. The familiar sounds, the scent of the wheat, the flour whitening
the walls--all reminded me of home, and it seemed to me as if I must
struggle out of this nightmare and waken, and find myself once more a
happy girl by the Neckar side. They were long in unbarring the door at
which Amante had knocked: at length, an old feeble voice inquired who
was there, and what was sought? Amante answered shelter from the storm
for two women; but the old woman replied, with suspicious hesitation,
that she was su