she was still occupied in meditation.
Assured by the sight, that she had not yet observed the fugitive
figure, he again directed his attention--with an excess of anxiety
which he could hardly account for--in the direction where he had first
beheld it, but it was no more to be seen. It had either retired to
concealment, or was now still advancing towards his tent through a
clump of trees that clothed the descent of the hill.

Silently and patiently he continued to look forth over the landscape;
and still no living thing was to be seen. At length, just as he began
to doubt whether his senses had not deceived him, the fugitive figure
suddenly appeared from the trees, hurried with wavering gait over the
patch of low, damp ground that still separated it from the young Goth,
gained his tent, and then with a feeble cry fell helplessly upon the
earth at his feet.

That cry, faint as it was, attracted Goisvintha's attention. She
turned in an instant, thrust Hermanric aside, and raised the stranger
in her arms. The light, slender form, the fair hand and arm hanging
motionless towards the ground, the long locks of deep black hair, heavy
with the moisture of the night atmosphere, betrayed the wanderer's sex
and age in an instant. The solitary fugitive was a young girl.

Signing to Hermanric to kindle the extinguished torch at a neighbouring
watch-fire, Goisvintha carried the still insensible girl into the tent.
As the Goth silently proceeded to obey her, a vague, horrid suspicion,
that he shrunk from embodying, passed across his mind. His hand shook
so that he could hardly light the torch, and bold and vigorous as he
was, his limbs trembled beneath him as he slowly returned to the tent.

When he had gained the interior of his temporary abode, the light of
his torch illuminated a strange and impressive scene.

Goisvintha was seated on a rude oaken chest, supporting on her knees
the form of the young girl, and gazing with an expression of the most
intense and enthralling interest upon her pale, wasted countenance.
The tattered robe that had hitherto enveloped the fugitive had fallen
back, and disclosed the white dress, which was the only other garment
she wore. Her face, throat, and arms, had been turned, by exposure to
the cold, to the pure whiteness of marble. Her eyes were closed, and
her small, delicate features were locked in a rigid repose. But for
her deep black hair, which heightened the ghastly aspect of her