e mind, a zeal for goodness and right, and I think I
shall have a place there too. Courage, Elizabeth, courage!"

A beautiful smile had illumined the wife's features, while she was
reminded of the happiest hours of her life, but when he paused, gazed
into her eyes, and clasped her right hand in his, she was seized with an
intense longing to pray once, only once, with him to the Saviour so,
drawing her fingers from his, she pressed the image of the Crucified One
to her breast with her left hand, pleading with mute motions of her lips,
ineligible to him alone, and with ardent entreaty in her large, tearful
eyes: "Pray, pray with me, pray to the saviour."

Lopez was greatly agitated; his heart beat faster, and a strong impulse
urged him to start up, cry "no," and not allow himself to be moved, by an
affectionate meakness, into bowing his manly soul before one, who, to
him, was no more than human.

The noble figure of the crucified Saviour, carved by an artist's hand in
ivory, hung from an ebony cross, and he thrust the image back, intending
to turn proudly way, he gazed at the face and found there only pain,
quiet endurance, and touching sorrow. Ah, his own heart had often bled,
as the pure brow of this poor, persecuted, tortured saint bled beneath
its crown of thorns. To defy this silent companion in suffering, was no
manly deed--to pay homage, out of love, to Him, who had brought love into
the world, seemed to possess a sweet, ensnaring charm--so he clasped his
slender hands closely round his dumb wife's fingers, pressed his dark
curls against Elizabeth's fair hair, and both, for the first and last
time, repeated together a mute, fervent prayer.

Before the hut, and surrounded by the forest, was a large clearing, where
two roads crossed.

Adam, Marx and Ruth had gazed first down one and then the other, to look
for the wagon, but nothing was to be seen or heard. As, with increasing
anxiety, they turned back to the first path, the poacher grew restless.
His crooked mouth twisted to and fro in strange contortions, not a muscle
of his coarse face was till, and this looked so odd and yet so horrible,
that Ruth could not help laughing, and the smith asked what ailed him.

Marx made no reply; his ear had caught the distant bay of a dog, and he
knew what the sound meant. Work at the anvil impairs the hearing, and the
smith did not notice the approaching peril, and repeated: "What ails you,
man?"

"I am freezing," replied