Anna had become almost insensible; and, from being animated by activity and energy, had become passive in spirit and supine in body. The change had affrighted Konrad; her pulses beat like lightning, and her hands and brow were burning. Gently, as if she had been a sick child, he laid her in a corner of that vaulted apartment, which appeared to have been a cellar of the Priory. There the strewn and crisped leaves of the last autumn lay thick and soft, and thinking only of death, in her utter exhaustion of mind and body, she made no reply to his tender and reiterated inquiries.
Konrad adjusted her damp dress over her beautiful person, and, full of solicitude and anxiety, seated himself near her. He listened—her breath was becoming fainter and more rapid; excessive fatigue and over-excitement had evidently done their worst upon her tender frame.
"Oh, how thy hands burn!" said Konrad, as he took them in his with the fondness of other days. "Speak, Anna—for the love of mercy speak to me!"
"I am very pettish and ungracious," she said faintly; "but forgive me, Konrad. I deserve not thy care—leave me to die; for God, I think, has deserted me!"
"Ah, speak not thus, Anna! God will never desert one so good—so gentle as thee. Hath he not led us to this chamber, where we are safe from the wind, and the rain, and the chill night-dew? but here thou canst not pass a night. The storm hath died away—one effort more"——
"I cannot rise, Konrad," said Anna, in a breathless voice.
"Then I must fly for succour!"
"No—no—O, do not leave me! I will die of terror; there may be demons, and wolves, and bears in these Scottish woods, as in those at home."
"But thou hast thy piece of the blessed cross, Anna. I go but to wind my bugle for succour at the foot of the hill, and surely some one in yonder castle by the river, will hear and attend to me."
"Then hasten, for my heart is sickening, and my strength is failing fast with the fever that burns within me."