Ernestine whipped and caressed her horse. Every pace the poor girl supposed was bringing her nearer and more near to the couch of her dying father.
CHAPTER X.
THE FOREST OF ECKERNFIÖRD.
Bandolo, who knew every foot of the way, avoided the villages and rode towards Eckernfiörd, which, from the landing-place, was double the distance he had mentioned to Ernestine as the space to be travelled. As she was too acute not to perceive this, after they had ridden without speaking for some miles in the dark (for there was no moon, and scarcely a star visible, as the clouds were coming up in heavy masses from the Baltic on their right), she made some inquiries about this fortress, where, as he had said, her father commanded, and how far it might yet be distant.
"It should be just beyond those trees, lady," replied the disguised spy.
"Should," retorted Ernestine in great displeasure; "are you not quite certain that it is?"
"How can one be certain of any thing in so dark a night? But trust in the Lord, lady—trust in the Lord!"
"Herr Doctor, you are very fond of repeating that tiresome phrase; but remember, sir, that at present I trust to you, and it seems that you are leading me towards a dense forest.
"Through that forest lies our way, grafine. I did not make the road. If I had, I should perhaps have taken it round by the shore of the haven; but, as it lies through the forest, we must pursue it, or remain where we are."
The narrow horse-path, which hitherto had been bordered only by smooth green meadows, divided by quickset hedges, now became gradually lost in that forest of tall trees which lies between Eckernfiörd and Kiel,* and so dense became the entwined branches and other obstructions incident to a wood growing in a state of nature, that their horses could scarcely move at times, and Bandolo now dispensed with his circular barnacles (a severe impediment to the vision of one who did not require them), and gazed around with all the air of a man who had completely lost himself.