would have
been improper, as well as the sensitive, almost intuitive, feeling with
which each avoided saying aught that might prove injurious to her
own nation. As respects each other, there was perfect confidence; as
regarded their respective people, entire fidelity. June was quite as
anxious as Mabel could be on any other point to know where the Sergeant
had gone and when he was expected to return; but she abstained from
putting the question, with a delicacy that would have done honor to the
highest civilization; nor did she once frame any other inquiry in a way
to lead indirectly to a betrayal of the much-desired information on that
particular point: though when Mabel of her own accord touched on any
matter that might by possibility throw a light on the subject, she
listened with an intentness which almost suspended respiration.

In this manner the hours passed away unheeded, for both were too much
interested to think of rest. Nature asserted her rights, however,
towards morning; and Mabel was persuaded to lie down on one of the straw
beds provided for the soldiers, where she soon fell into a deep sleep.
June lay near her and a quiet reigned on the whole island as profound as
if the dominion of the forest had never been invaded by man.

When Mabel awoke the light of the sun was streaming in through the
loopholes, and she found that the day was considerably advanced. June
still lay near her, sleeping as tranquilly as if she reposed on--we
will not say "down," for the superior civilization of our own times
repudiates the simile--but on a French mattress, and as profoundly as
if she had never experienced concern. The movements of Mabel,
notwithstanding, soon awakened one so accustomed to vigilance; and then
the two took a survey of what was passing around them by means of the
friendly apertures.

CHAPTER XXIII.

What had the Eternall Maker need of thee,
The world in his continuall course to keepe,
That doest all things deface? ne lettest see
The beautie of his worke? Indeede in sleepe,
The slouth full body that doth love to steepe
His lustlesse limbs, and drowne his baser mind,
Doth praise thee oft, and oft from Stygian deepe,
Calles thee his goddesse, in his errour blind,
And great dame Nature's hand-maide, chearing every kinde.
_Faerie Queene._

The tranquillity of the previous night was not contradicted by the
movements of the day. Although Mabel and Ju