nd she became almost terrified.

Desperately she grappled with her trepidation and flung it from her, chid
Cinders for his foolish cowardice, and fell again to whistling Bertrand's
melody with all her might.

Clear and flutelike it echoed through the desolate tunnels, startlingly
distinct to her strained nerves. Sometimes the echoes seemed to mock her,
but she would not be dismayed. It might be a help to Bertrand, and it
certainly helped herself.

A long time passed, how long she had not the vaguest notion. Cinders,
grown tired of his own impatience, rested his chin on her shoulder and
went phlegmatically to sleep, secure in her assurance that there was
nothing whatever to be afraid of. Small creature though he was, her arms
ached from holding him, yet she would not let him go, he was too precious
for that; and each minute that passed, so she told herself, brought the
end of her vigil nearer.

Her heart was like lead within her, but she would not give way to
despair. He was bound to come in the end.

And come in the end he did, but not till her hopes had sunk so low that
when she heard the first faint sound of his returning feet she would not
believe her ears. But when Cinders heard it also, and raised his head to
growl, she suffered herself to be convinced. He really was coming at
last.

His progress was very slow, maddeningly slow it seemed to Chris. She
watched eagerly for the first sign of light from his lantern, but she
watched in vain. No faintest ray came to illumine the darkness. Surely it
was he; it could be none other!

Nearer and nearer came the footsteps, slow and groping. She listened till
she could bear it no longer; then "Bertrand!" she cried wildly. "Bertie!
Oh, is it you! Do speak!"

Instantly his voice came to her out of the darkness. "Yes, yes. It is me,
little one. I have had--an accident. I am desolated--afflicted; there are
no words that can say. And you awaiting me still, my little bird of
Paradise, singing so bravely in the darkness!"

"Whistling," corrected Chris; "I can't sing. What on earth has happened?
Are you hurt?"

"No, no! It is nothing--a _bagatelle_. Ah, but you have found the good
Cinders! I am rejoiced indeed!"

"Yes, he came to me--ages ago. It is you I have been waiting for all this
time. I thought you were never coming. At least, of course, I knew you
would come; but oh"--with a great sigh--"it has been a long time!"

"Ah, pardon me!" he said. "But why did you wait?