Atlano, smiling as the fiends, removed the hand, saying:
“Thou wilt hear from me with the morn.”
Then, motioning to Sensel to lead the way, he rejoined the attendants awaiting him in the alley.
Hellen watched until he had disappeared. If he could but move—but fly after him—but crush him!
Not long though, did his agony endure. It was scarcely five minutes when the thicket again rustled. The startled Hellen listened, and with hope. The rustling was repeated. Then, wonderful, his muscles began to grow less rigid, his blood to course warmer. In another moment he was leaping to his feet, and towards the thicket—when, from behind it, appeared the ‘Silent Priest’!
“The ‘Silent Priest,’” murmured poor Hellen.
The silent one approached, and extended his hands to grasp Hellen’s. Instantly, their soft, firm pressure gave confidence and strength to the forlorn youth. All fear and distrust vanished, and he looked into the noble countenance bending over him with strange yearning.
The priest signed that Hellen must follow him; and he acquiesced, feeling as if this strange being could draw him to the worlds end. Arm in arm they walked to the tower, to mount it, the priest showing an agility as great as Hellen’s.
They sat down on the ledge. And, to Hellen’s amaze, a sudden, strong hope possessed him. Could it be owing to the tender manner of this priest? Or could the warm pressure of his hand have aught to do with it? Neither spoke, and both turned their eyes to the water, in the direction of the far-off Pelasgia. After a little, Hellen moaned:
“Ah—home, home! As if we sorrowed not enough in being torn from it! Yet, what was that pain to this? The woe of this night! Tell me, ‘Silent Priest’—how can I save my pure ones, or kill them ere too late?”