Thou wilt not doom that cause to death!
O God! our struggle has been long;
Thou wilt not quench our glimmering faith!
Thou hear’st the murmurs of our pain,—
“Give us our heritage again!”
“Who,” said Ernest, emphatically, when the service was ended—“who will assist me to secure another white eagle?”
All understood at once that a countryman had joined their company. No further preparation was necessary for the story which Ernest had to tell; and in a few moments, the hardier men of the party were scaling the slippery rocks in search of their prey, while Lenore was looking for the path by which her daughter had descended, that she might join her and communicate the intelligence.
“Mother!” cried a gentle voice to her, as she was about to go down. She turned round, and saw Sophia leaning against a tree where she must have heard all. “Mother,” repeated Sophia, scarcely audibly, “is this true?” and at the sight of Lenore’s faint but genuine smile, the poor girl laid her head on the shoulder which was formerly the resting-place of her troubles, and, once more,—after a long and dreary interval of estrangement,—wept without control.
Lenore gently led her towards the altar, on which they both leaned.
“My child,” she said, “before we go to him, answer me what I ask. You do not, you say, believe that yon constellation is guided in its glittering round. You do not believe that the storm-bird, buffeted in its flight, is guided to its nest at last. Do you believe that Cyprian has been guided hither, or is it one of the events in which there is no seriousness, no import, that you are thus brought together in the heart of the desert?”