"Have you no home at all--no house in which to sleep?" Beverly managed

to ask.

"I live in a castle of air," said he, waving his hand gracefully. "I

sleep in the house of my fathers," "You poor fellow," cried Beverly, pityingly. He laughed and absently

patted the hilt of his sword.

She heard the men behind them turning the coach into the glen through

which they walked carefully. Her feet fell upon a soft, grassy sward and

the clatter of stones was now no longer heard. They were among the

shadowy trees, gaunt trunks of enormous size looming up in the light of

the lanterns. Unconsciously her thoughts went over to the Forest of

Arden and the woodland home of Rosalind, as she had imagined it to

be. Soon there came to her ears the swish of waters, as of some

turbulent river hurrying by. Instinctively she drew back and her eyes

were set with alarm upon the black wall of night ahead. Yetive had

spoken more than once of this wilderness. Many an unlucky traveler had

been lost forever in its fastnesses.

"It is the river, your highness. There is no danger. I will not lead you

into it," he said, a trifle roughly. "We are low in the valley and there

are marshes yonder when the river is in its natural bed. The floods have

covered the low grounds, and there is a torrent coming down from the

hills. Here we are, your highness. This is the Inn of the Hawk and

Raven."

He bowed and pointed with his hat to the smouldering fire a short

distance ahead. They had turned a bend in the overhanging cliff, and

were very close to the retreat before she saw the glow.

The fire was in the open air and directly in front of a deep cleft in

the rocky background. Judging by the sound, the river could not be more

than two hundred feet away. Men came up with lanterns and others piled

brush upon the fire. In a very short time the glen was weirdly

illuminated by the dancing flames. From her seat on a huge log, Beverly

was thus enabled to survey a portion of her surroundings. The

overhanging ledge of rock formed a wide, deep canopy, underneath which

was perfect shelter. The floor seemed to be rich, grassless loam, and

here and there were pallets of long grass, evidently the couches of

these homeless men. All about were huge trees, and in the direction of

the river the grass grew higher and then gave place to reeds. The

foliage above was so dense that the moon and stars were invisible. There

was a deathly stillness in the air. The very loneliness was so appalling

that Beverly's poor little heart was in a quiver of dread. Aunt Fanny,

who sat near by, had not spoken since leaving the coach, but her eyes

were expressively active.




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