s but little better with me,' answered Oswald, groping after the
path to the right, which he supposed to be the one he should take.
Still sharper blew the wind as the storm rapidly approached, and the
dark gray mountain-clouds lashed the immense rocks with their mighty
wings, sending down their accumulated snows upon the heads of the poor
wanderers. Still more wildly rushed and whistled and howled the winds
among the rocks, in strangely horrible tones, and in the midst of the
uproar they distinguished the sounds of distant rolling thunder and the
flashes of lightning in the low dark clouds. In this struggle of the
elements, all the summits and other landmarks which Oswald had noted to
guide his returning steps, had completely disappeared, and at length he
impatiently cried: 'I have lost the way. Why was I weak enough to yield
to the wishes of a child!'

'Chide not, dear Oswald,' entreated Faith, submissively. 'I will
willingly endure every hardship which is suffered with you.'

'That is what distresses me,' said Oswald. 'Were I alone, I should
enjoy this storm instead of trembling at it; for nature appears to me
most beautiful in anger, and I have already been compelled to expose
this brow to many a wild tempest. My anxiety for you troubles me. If
your health should be injured by this exposure I should be
inconsolable, and have only my own thoughtlessness to blame for it.'

A brighter flash and louder report now put it beyond doubt that a
terrible storm was at hand. The echoes thundered among the rocks, now
nearer and now farther off, until they finally died away in indistinct
murmurs.

'A thunderstorm in winter!' cried the trembling Faith. 'That is doubly
horrible.'

'Who knows that this tempest may not bring a blessing; and certainly it
cannot do much harm here among these old rocks,' said Oswald by way of
consoling her, still continuing to advance at random.

'Thank heaven, I hear human voices!' exultingly shouted Faith: and like
a doe she skipped towards an eminence with such speed that Oswald could
scarcely follow her.

A multitude of people were approaching, sure enough. It was composed of
colonel Goes, the detestable Hurka, and a troop of the Lichtenstein
dragoons, who immediately aimed their arms at the fugitives.

'Stand!' cried Goes, amid the thunder of the storm, to his son, whom he
instantly recognised. 'Stand, or I command the troops to fire.'

'Father, do no violence!' cried the despairing youth,