me, my
Martina!"

"No, no, I cannot rest!" cried Martina, suddenly, after having leant on
Adam for a few minutes--"I cannot--Oh, gracious Father! do with me what
thou wilt, only do not deprive me of my child, my Joseph; he is
innocent; I alone am guilty--this man and I."

She went some steps from Adam, as if she could not bear his vicinity;
she no longer shed tears, but she sobbed convulsively with dry eyes, as
if her heart would break.

The scene in the wood was like the procession of the "Wild Huntsman;"
the men with torches and lanterns, and their eager shouts and cries,
and cracking of whips, and ringing of bells; and the dogs, too,
carrying lanterns round their necks, and rushing along the ravines
barking, and then galloping up the hills, still barking and pressing
forwards, till recalled by the voice of their masters. It was fortunate
that such good order was maintained. No one could recognise his
neighbour, for each man was a moving mass of snow, and the hills and
rocks looked down by the torchlight in amazement, at the men who had
come there to shout out, and seek a young child.

"See, how all the village loved him!" said Martina to Adam, relating to
him how the boy had wakened her on the previous night, three times, to
ask which way his father would come; and she reproached herself
severely for having listened to Leegart, and sent him out of the house
alone; she might have known that something dreadful was sure to occur
on this day.

Adam was sadly perplexed, and did not know what to say; and he was more
sad than ever when he thought of the Forest Mill, where they were all
sitting waiting for him, and remembered the treachery towards Martina
he had been persuaded to commit this very day.

Suddenly a cry of joy was heard--"What is it? what is it?" "God be
praised, they have found him!" "Where? where?" The smith came up, out
of breath, to Adam and Martina. "Here is his cap; we shall find him
now, sure enough."

Martina seized the dripping cap, and shed scalding tears over it.
"Heavens! he is now without a cap, and the snow is lying on his head,
if he is still in life."

Martina passed her hand over her face, and stared at the smith, who
certainly looked a strange monster. He had not taken time to wash his
sooty face, and now the snow had drawn all sorts of strange figures on
it, and his red beard was hanging full of icicles.

"You must remain on the straight road, that we may be able to find you
im