"I never imagined you were up, or watching, for I heard no sound near me."
"Well, no matter; sleep, if you can, and dream of peace, and quiet, and perfect happiness." He sighed heavily as he spoke, and rising, renewed the fire.
Mary lay watching him as he paced to and fro in front of the burning logs—his arms folded across his chest, and his cap drawn over the brow: gradually a sense of utter weariness stole over her, and she slept.
At dawn a bustle commenced in the camp, and preparation made—first for breakfast, then for moving.
When Mary came out, her pale face and wearied look attracted Mrs.
Carlton's attention.
"My dear child, I am afraid you are scarcely able to travel to-day; did you not sleep well?"
"Not so soundly as I could have wished," she said, passing her hand over her brow, as if to remove some painful thought.
Dr. Bryant acquainted them with the adventures of the night suggesting, that in future some of the party should watch, as security for their horses; and all agreed that it was advisable.
"How readily one might suppose this a gipsy encampment. Miss Hamilton and myself are quite dark enough to favor the illusion, and Ellen and Mr. Carlton would pass as of gipsy descent; but what would they think of Miss Mary? She is decidedly anti-gipsy in her appearance."
"I can tell you, Uncle Frank," cried Elliot, clapping his hands; "they would take Miss Mary for an angel that came to our tent, like the one that came down to see Abraham."