nocent offence.

Through the relief of both mind and body which she experienced in no
small degree, the first thought that came was a thankful "what a mercy I
didn't call Mark, for I should never have heard the last of this;" and
having fought her fears alone she enjoyed her success alone, and
girl-like resolved to say nothing of her first night's adventures.
Gathering herself up she crept nearer and caressed her late terror,
which stretched its neck toward her with a comfortable sound, and
munched her shawl like a cosset lamb. But before this new friendship was
many minutes old, Sylvia's heavy lids fell together, her head dropped
lower and lower, her hand lay still on the dappled neck, and with a long
sigh of weariness she dropped back upon the hay, leaving little Alderney
to watch over her much more tranquilly than she had watched over it.

CHAPTER IV.

THROUGH FLOOD AND FIELD AND FIRE.

Very early were they afloat again, and as they glided up the stream
Sylvia watched the earth's awakening, seeing in it what her own should
be. The sun was not yet visible above the hills, but the sky was ready
for his coming, with the soft flush of color dawn gives only to her
royal lover. Birds were chanting matins as if all the jubilance of their
short lives must be poured out at once. Flowers stirred and brightened
like children after sleep. A balmy wind came whispering from the wood,
bringing the aroma of pines, the cool breath of damp nooks, the
healthful kiss that leaves a glow behind. Light mists floated down the
river like departing visions that had haunted it by night, and every
ripple breaking on the shore seemed to sing a musical good morrow.

Sylvia could not conceal the weariness her long vigil left behind; and
after betraying herself by a drowsy lurch that nearly took her
overboard, she made herself comfortable, and slept till the grating of
the keel on a pebbly shore woke her to find a new harbor reached under
the lee of a cliff, whose deep shadow was very grateful after the glare
of noon upon the water.

"How do you intend to dispose of yourself this afternoon, Adam?" asked
Mark, when dinner was over and his sister busy feeding the birds.

"In this way," answered Warwick, producing a book and settling himself
in a commodious cranny of the rock.

"Moor and I want to climb the cliff and sketch the view; but it is too
rough a road for Sylvia. Would you mind mounting guard for an hour or
two? Read away, an