mined the darkness.

At length they occurred at longer intervals, the thunder lost its
appalling fury, and as the wind drove the storm farther and farther to
the southwards, at last it wholly died away.

CHAPTER XVII.

It was quite dark in Sirona's cavern, fearfully dark, and the blacker
grew the night which shrouded her, the more her terror increased. From
time to time she shut her eyes as tightly as she could, for she fancied
she could see a crimson glare, and she longed for light in that hour as a
drowning man longs for the shore. Dark forebodings of every kind
oppressed her soul.

What if Paulus had abandoned her, and had left her to her fate? Or if
Polykarp should have been searching for her on the mountain in this
storm, and in the darkness should have fallen into some abyss, or have
been struck by the lightning? Suppose the mass of rock that overhung the
entrance to the cave should have been loosened in the storm, and should
fall, and bar her exit to the open air? Then she would be buried alive,
and she must perish alone, without seeing him whom she loved once more,
or telling him that she had not been unworthy of his trust in her.

Cruelly tormented by such thoughts as these, she dragged herself up and
felt her way out into the air and wind, for she could no longer hold out
in the gloomy solitude and fearful darkness. She had hardly reached the
mouth of the cave, when she heard steps approaching her lurking place,
and again she shrank back. Who was it that could venture in this
pitch-dark night to climb from rock to rock? Was it Paulus returning? Was
it he--was it Polykarp seeking her? She felt intoxicated; she pressed her
hands to her heart, and longed to cry out, but she dared not, and her
tongue refused its office. She listened with the tension of terror to the
sound of the steps which came straight towards her nearer and nearer,
then the wanderer perceived the faint gleam of her white dress, and
called out to her. It was Paulus.

She drew a deep breath of relief when she recognized his voice, and
answered his call.

"In such weather as this," said the anchorite, "it is better to be within
than without, it seems to me, for it is not particularly pleasant out
here, so far as I have found."

"But it has been frightful here inside the cave too," Sirona answered, "I
have been so dreadfully frightened, I was so lonely in the horrible
darkness. If only I had had my little dog with me, it would at lea