Tales from the German. Volume II.

by C. F. van der Velde

CHAPTER XIX.

'The morning is fine,' said Faith to Oswald after breakfast, as their venerable host seated himself with his bible upon his knee; 'and the valley here is so narrow and close that these huge rocks seem to press upon my heart. Let us therefore walk out a short distance beyond their confines.'

'Venture not too far, my children!' said the pastor, in a warning voice without raising his eyes from his book. 'My old body is a true and faithful weather-prophet, and tells me that we shall have a severe storm to-day. These storms rage much more furiously here than in the plains, and, when they come, every living creature finds it necessary to seek a shelter.'

'We will soon return,' promised Faith, skipping forth by Oswald's side.

'Mark well the place of entrance to our retreat,' said the Hussite, who opened the outer stone door for them; 'that you may be sure to find it again. The passages among the rocks are very similar, and if by mistake you enter a wrong one you may be compelled to wander about all day long.'

'Never fear! 'answered Oswald. 'It would illy become a soldier to be unable to remember any locality it might be necessary for him to find again. He then looked at the highest peaks in the vicinity, impressed their relative positions upon his memory, carefully examined the secret door, and thus prepared, they went forth into the clear fresh morning air and soon became engaged in a conversation of such interest as to render them entirely heedless of the lapse of time.

'I know not how it is,' said Faith, fanning her glowing face with her handkerchief; 'it is yet mid winter here, and I am so very warm.'

'It is incident to the summer of life,' said their former guide, who suddenly stood before them as they turned a corner; 'especially when the sun of love shines warmly. It is not probable you will have much further occasion to complain of the heat to-day, for a storm is approaching.'

'With the sky so clear? Impossible!' cried Faith.

'You know nothing of the tricks of the mountain-sprites,' said the Bohemian. 'One moment we have sunshine, the next thunder and lightning. That is the way with them. You will do well to return to the valley betimes.'

He passed on and was soon out of sight.

'We had better follow him,' said Oswald.

'Yet but one quarter of an hour,' begged Faith; 'and then we will return as fast as we can.'

'Who can deny you any thing,' said the youth; 'even when you solicit what should not be granted?'

They still continued to advance, until they came where the rocks were less compactly clustered, and glimpses of the plain, presenting brilliant winter landscapes, were occasionally obtained through the openings.

'Ah, how much pleasanter it is here than in the pent up valley!' cried Faith, clapping her hands with childish joy.

Oswald suddenly started and listened. 'Did you hear nothing?' he asked the maiden. 'It sounded like a distant trumpet.'

'Yes,' said Faith, after listening a moment; 'it must be the blast of a trumpet.'

'It may be our pursuers!' cried Oswald. 'Let us hasten back to our asylum.'

He now turned quickly about with Faith, and, rather bearing than leading her, hastened to retrace the path by which they had come. Before proceeding far on their return, they were met by a colder and sharper wind, and the snow which it blew from the summits of the rocks involved them in a white fleecy cloud.

'Alas, Oswald, I can no longer see,' complained Faith.

'It is 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, throwing himself before the maiden, who had sunk upon her knees; 'God judges righteously and protects the innocent! Hear how he warns you with the voice of his thunder!'

The captain gave a loud and scornful laugh.

'Seize the rebel and his heretic bride,' shrieked the angry colonel. The captain, nothing loth, motioning his dragoons to follow him and confiding in his superior force, hastened forward, swinging his sword high above his head. The colonel accompanied him and the dragoons followed.

'Save me, my God, from the crime of parricide!' cried Oswald, advancing to meet his opponents.

At that moment came a blinding flash of lightning, accompanied by a deafening clap of thunder, and with it rushed down from the highest summit a monstrous mass of stone which caused the earth to tremble as if there had been an earthquake; a short, sharp cry was heard, and the pursuers and pursued were prostrated upon their faces.